


For Whom the Skel Tolls

by MeekoMyachi



Series: FWTST Universe [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Biting, Blood, Deaf Frisk, Death Scare TW, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Female Reader, Frisk Uses Sign Language, Minor Character Death, No seriously this shit gets pretty angsty from time to time, Nonbinary Frisk, Reader Is Not Frisk, Slow Burn, Some angst, The general consensus is that Sans is getting weird as shit, alcohol use, but not too much, more tags to come, reader identifies as female
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2018-07-14 18:32:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 62
Words: 211,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7185317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeekoMyachi/pseuds/MeekoMyachi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's three months after the barrier fell. You're hired to translate for a deaf third grader at the elementary school, and their "guardians" are a little... well...<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to Hell

You're in hell.

This hellscape, this deadly area, this prison -- you have to get out. You know you have to get out.

You can't believe that they threw you in with a class of third graders.

Granted, you've just about finished with your undergrad degree in special education, and you're fluent with sign language. Of course the school hired you. They were even willing to overlook your lack of qualification; one of the incoming students was deaf, and none of the teachers would have known how to translate. Your adviser had boasted that you were the best in your class. There wasn't much sweet talking needed to get you the job at all, though. You were an immediate solution.

You remove your headphones as you enter the main office of the elementary school. The children would be getting off of the buses soon, and you aren't sure exactly what you should be doing or where you should be going. No one ever really specified what you should do.

"Oh, hello!" the receptionist greets you, drinking what must be her fourth cup of coffee judging by the amount of sugar packets on her desk. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah, hi." You approach the desk. "I'm _____ _____, and I'm starting today, working with a deaf third grader? I'm not really sure what to do or where to go."

"Oh, I have your ID card..." She pulls an ID on a long lanyard out of a drawer, which you put around your neck. "It's a good thing you came here. We could have had to hunt you down to give you that."

There's silence, where you only smile at her.

"Okay, um, all of the third grade classes are on the second floor," she continues. "Your class is 304, which is right... here." She circles the classroom on a small paper map.

"Thanks," you say. "I should really head up, then. The kids will be heading in soon."

"Have fun!"

You opt to take the stairs (no point in using an elevator to go up one floor). The map ends up being totally useless; you drop it in your bag and find the classroom considerably easier without it.

There's an older woman sitting at the desk in the front of the room that you've met before.

"Mrs. Anderson, hi," you greet her. She's honestly the cutest old lady you've ever met, with her long skirts and white hair pulled back in a bun.

She gives a wide smile when she sees you. "Hello, sweetheart! Are you ready for your first day?"

"As I'll ever be," you say, locking your bag in the closet at the back of the room.

"I met the child you'll be working with yesterday," she tells you. "Such a sweet child. Their name is Frisk. They/them pronouns."

She hands you a manila envelope with Frisk's student information. Sure enough, neither the "Male" nor "Female" box, but a handwritten one next to them that reads "Neutral" is checked. The only other thing written in the comments is the fact that they're deaf and prefer sign language.

"I'm so glad we were able to find you on such short notice," she goes on. "The poor child hasn't been in school for a while, but I've heard that their guardian has been keeping them occupied with homeschooling. They may even be a bit ahead of the rest of the class."

"I see," is all you manage to say.

You straighten up your desk, which is at the back of the room next to the cupboards, directly across the room from Mrs. Anderson's, as you hear children in the hallway. A flock of them enters, shrieking. One child, slightly smaller than the rest, lingers by the door. They're wearing a striped sweater. Mrs. Anderson gestures for you to head over.

The child furiously signs at someone on the other side of the door. You hear a low chuckle. You keep to a spot next to the door where you won't be able to see the person.

"don't worry, kid. they said they got you somebody that can sign," the owner of the chuckle says reassuringly.

The child sighs and turns as if they can feel your presence. They sign.

_*"My name is Frisk. Are you my helper?"_

You smile and sign back, _"Yes. My name is _____. I'm happy to start working with you."_

Frisk turns back to the door and signs (so you can see).

_*"Her name is _____. She's pretty. You can go home now."_

There's another chuckle, and Frisk waves before stepping into the classroom. They quickly find the desk with their name tag on it and sit down. You close the door as Mrs. Anderson clears her throat.

"Good morning, class," she announces. You take your place next to the white board where Frisk can see you and sign along, as is your job. "Today, we're welcoming two new members to the classroom."

She looks over to you, your cue to introduce yourself.

"Hi everyone! My name is _____," you say. And sign. "I'm the new classroom helper."

"What's the funny thing you're doing with your hands?" one boy calls out. "Are you pretending to be Naruto?"

You snort at the reference. "Ah, no. This is called sign language. If someone is deaf and can't hear words when someone talks, then they can learn how to talk with their hands. I learned how to do it, too, so I can help people understand the world around them."

Frisk is rigid in their seat. They look scared.

"Our other new friend," Mrs. Anderson cuts in, "is named Frisk. Frisk, why don't you stand up and wave hello?"

It takes a moment for you to finish translating the request, but Frisk eventually stands, visibly shaking, and waves.

"_____ is here because Frisk can't hear. Everyone, please be nice to them and show them how great our school is."

Frisk sits back down, eyes fixed on the top of their desk. Some of the kids murmur among themselves.

"NOW." Mrs. Anderson's voice is stern, and several kids jump. "Take out notebooks and pencils. Our first hour of the day is writing."

* * *

The morning passes quickly. Frisk seems to relax once no one has eyes on them. You help usher the class to the cafeteria, inwardly thanking the universe that Frisk brought a packed lunch so you wouldn't have to deal with lunch ladies.

You sit with Mrs. Anderson in the teacher's lounge, where the window overlooks the playground. You gaze out while you absently munch on a bagel.

"Don't forget," Mrs. Anderson says between sips of her tea, "that you're meeting Frisk's guardians after school today."

You recall that Frisk's file had three guardians listed.

"All of them?"

"I think only two. One is a very busy man."

"I see." You turn your attention back to the window. On the pavement, you see Frisk and a few other kids. You smile. They seem to be playing together.

Oh, oh no. One of the kids throwing a basketball at full force at the back of Frisk's head is definitely _not_ playing. Frisk clutches their head. You know from experience that a basketball thrown that hard _really_ hurts.

"Oh, shit," you hiss, standing and quickly heading for the door. Mrs. Anderson looks out the window and stands just as quickly.

Within seconds, you've sprinted out of the building and you're peeling children off of Frisk, who is now on the ground sobbing. Where the hell are the supervisors when you need them?! One kid manages to land a swift kick to Frisk's ribs before he's pulled away.

"What in the _world_ do you think you're doing?!" you yell, helping Frisk to their feet. They wrap their arms around you and bury their face into your stomach.

"Do us a favor," the kicking boy spits. "Tell it that it's broken. Tell it that no one is gonna want to play with a broken toy."

You're taken aback, and you're ready to lose it on this kid when you hear Mrs. Anderson's distinct throat clearing.

"All of you, with me, _now_ ,” she growls, then turns to you. “Take care of Frisk.”

You nod and watch as she leads the offending children back into the building, leaving you with a very disheveled Frisk. You peel them away gently and kneel so that you’re eye level with them. They look up at you and sign with shaky hands.

_*”They called me an it. They called me broken. I can read lips. I’m not stupid.”_

You sigh and reply, _“Are you okay?”_

Frisk nods, their sobs slowing until they’re finally done crying. You wipe tears off of their face with your jacket sleeve.

_*”You didn’t have to help. He would have dunked on them.”_

Confusion washes over you. _“Who would have dunked on them?”_

Frisk points to the tightly clustered trees at the edge of the pavement. Nestled into the darkness, you can see a bright blue glow, lapping at the air like fire. There’s a fizz in the air that you hadn’t noticed through your rage. Magic. You stand and smile down at Frisk, signing your response, as well as saying it loud enough for whatever the source of magic is to hear.

“Well, he doesn’t need to worry about dunking on anyone, because I’m going to protect you, okay?”

Frisk nods vigorously, waves at the figure, and takes your hand. The bell signaling the end of break is ringing.

As you lead Frisk back to the building, the chuckle from earlier seems to echo around your head, followed by two words spoken in a low, menacing tone, right at the forefront of your thoughts.

“you’d better.”

* * *

_*”Don’t be nervous! My guardians are super nice. You already met one today, kinda.”_

That’s what scares you. You tap nervously on your desk. Mrs. Anderson promptly abandoned you at the end of the school day after wishing you luck. You had two rolling chairs pulled up on the other side of your desk, and Frisk was presently perched on top of your desk.

You know that magic meant monsters. It’s only been a couple of months since the barrier fell, and monsters are now everywhere. For all you know, that blue flame could have belonged to some kind of elemental (which you had only ever seen one of, tending a bar somewhere downtown). It’s not that you have a problem with monsters at all, it’s more of the fact that meeting new people was nerve wracking, and you haven’t had enough interactions with monsters to know what’s okay and what isn’t.

“Um, hello.”

You look up quickly, then stand even quicker. A large white goat woman is standing before you, dressed in a purple dress, smiling kindly. Next to her is a skeleton in a blue parka and basketball shorts, who is probably not much shorter than you. He has a lazy, knowing grin spread across his face.

“O-oh! Oh god! I’m sorry, hello!” You hold out a hand, which is immediately accepted between two large, warm paws. “Hi, I’m _____, Frisk’s... translator. You two must be...?”

Both monsters. They’re both monsters.

“I am Toriel, Frisk’s adoptive mother,” she says sweetly. “This is Sans, their guardian in case of emergency.”

“hey.”

Oh god, the voice from earlier.

“P-please, sit down,” you say. You watch as Toriel balances Frisk in her lap before you sit as well.

You decide to sign everything that you say, so Frisk can understand what’s going on. It’s only fair.

“I’m glad you guys could come out to meet me,” you go on, going through the spiel you had prepared. “I’m really looking forward to working with Frisk, and I want you to know that they’ll be safe--”

“you know,” Sans cuts in, and you swear you can see a blue glow in one of his eye sockets for a split second, “i hope you stick to your word, because if frisk gets kicked by another kid...”

“Frisk got hurt?!” Toriel gasps.

_*”I’m fine!”_ Frisk signs in protest. 

“Some of the kids were having... a hard time understanding Frisk’s being deaf,” you explain calmly. “They said some unsavory things, Frisk got hit with a basketball and a kick in the ribs, which is all I saw.”

Sans has a dangerous expression.

“They were all dealt with and sent home, and they won’t be back for a while,” you continue without breaking stride. “I took Frisk to the nurse to make sure everything was okay, and stuck close by for the rest of the day, to be safe.”

Toriel seems to relax a little.

“I have no tolerance for bullying,” you conclude. “I’ll see to it that nothing like this happens again.”

“i’ll be watching,” Sans mumbles.

“Do not mind him,” Toriel says, swatting his arm. “I am sure that you are more than capable of protecting and teaching my child.”

You smile at her, then get an idea. “You know what? Here’s my cell number...” You scribble it out on two small sheets of paper and hand one to each of them. “If you need anything or have any questions, please don’t hesitate to contact me. I know things are kind of hard on monster parents in this... school...”

You trail off and offer a sheepish smile, unsure of if you’d overstepped any boundaries. Toriel slowly reaches for your small notepad and your pen, taking them when you give her a small nod. She writes two phone numbers and writes a name next to each one.

“Here are ours. We will look out for you as well,” she says, and you know she’s being sincere. “We must be going. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

You say your goodbyes and wave them off. Once they’re gone, you add Toriel and Sans to your contacts. Not even a few minutes later, your phone buzzes.

**Sans (4:18pm): thanks, kid. you’re ok.**

You smile. At least he didn’t totally hate you, you guess. You fill out a brief report of your brief meeting to stick with Frisk’s file. Once the file cabinet is locked up, you get your bag from the other cabinet and eye your phone again.

It would be okay to text him back if he texted you first, right? Right. Just keep it professional.

**You (4:21pm): I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t have to dunk on any third graders :P**

Oh god oh no you aren’t texting your friends, _____, this isn’t professional _the smiley with the tongue sticking out is totally not professional._

But you already hit send, so fuck it, right? Right.

Your phone buzzes. You’re filled with immediate dread.

**Sans (4:23pm): thanks. wouldn’t want to expend any extra energy. you’re really lookin out for us. :P**

He reciprocated the smiley, so it’s okay. It’s okay. You can stop panicking, you tell yourself.

Deep breath in.

**You (4:24pm): It’s my job. Good to hear I’m doing it right.**

Exhale.

You’re fine.

You lock up the classroom and sign out at the main office on your way out. For your first day, you think it was pretty alright. Aside from the playground incident, it pretty much went without a hitch.

You climb into your car and start it, enjoying the late afternoon air for a moment one you open the windows. It’s the middle of March, so it’s still a little chilly out, but you don’t really mind. It’s a nice contrast to the heated classroom.

Once home, your evening goes how it normally would -- you work on some stuff for university, you make some dinner (spaghetti, because you’re lazy), you curl up on the couch in your pajamas with your black cat, Neo, to watch some television.

You opt for the cooking channel (Chopped is on), and you settle in with a nice cup of tea.

It’s been a good day, you think.

Your phone buzzes a few times, scaring you.

**Sans (8:43pm): sorry to bug ya so late**

**Sans (8:43pm): frisk wanted me to say goodnight to you**

**Sans (8:44pm): from them, not me.**

You feel youself smiling like an idiot.

**You (8:45pm): Goodnight, Sans.**

**You (8:45pm): Oh, and goodnight to Frisk, too.**

Satisfied, you turn your attention back to the television, just in time to see it cut to enraging commercials.

Nope. No, your day is still good.

Eventually, you convince yourself to crawl into bed and get some sleep. Your phone buzzes, and you manage to read the text before you fall asleep.

**Sans (11:58pm): goodnight from me, too.**

You’ve never fallen asleep with a smile on your face before.


	2. Unparalleled Spaghettorre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the school asks you to do something slightly unsavory, and you're rewarded with spaghetti.

"You want me to _what_?"

You're standing face to face with the school counselor, completely appalled by the words that have just crossed their lips. He shifts in his standing position and winces.

"When the board got your report the other day, they got concerned about Frisk's... living situation," he tells you again, gently. "Look, we just want you to make a home visit to each guardian's house and report on the living conditions. It's simple, and you're... y-you're..."

"I'm _pissed_ ," you hiss, "but I'll do it. Will the board stop making such a huge deal out of this if my report is satisfying?"

"I'm sure they will." He smiles sheepishly and adjusts his glasses. "Um, I'll leave you alone to make arrangements."

You groan. You pretty much have the day off because Frisk has a doctor's appointment, but you were told that you still had to come in. So you did. You dragged yourself out of bed and hung out in the classroom forever doing nothing, then at lunch, _this_ is sprung on you. Now you have to spend your time sticking your nose where you feel it doesn't belong. You rub at your temples and close your eyes.

It's okay. It's fine. Just call Sans.

You let your finger hit over the "call" button for a little while. Eventually, you drop your finger, but only when you're inside your car with Frisk's file sitting on the passenger seat.

It rings twice. Three times. Four. You brace yourself for the voicemail, but--

"oh, shit. hello?"

You take a deep breath. You're already panicking. "H-hi! Sans?"

"yeah."

"It's _____, from Frisk's school?"

He chuckles. "i have caller id. i've texted you before. i know who it is."

Oh. Right.

"Heeeeyyyy, buddy," you say, unable to contain your sudden nerves. "Um, something's happening, and it has to do with Frisk."

Silence.

"T-the school board... I'll be straight. The board got wind of my report from my initial meeting with you and Toriel, which may have contained descriptions of the two of you because that's what I'm supposed to do but um, at lunch today, um..." You pause to clear your throat. Get it together. "The counselor came and told me, um, since Frisk isn't in today, he wants me to... the _school board_ , I mean, wants me to, uh, conduct home visits? Because they're nervous about Frisk's 'living conditions", as he put it."

Silence, but you hear him sigh, which means the line isn't dead.

You go into full panic mode.

"I-I know you guys are perfectly capable and they're being awful about monsters taking care of a human kid but if I don't do this then they'll call Child Protective Services and if they pull the 'a monster is taking care of them!' card then they'll take Frisk away for sure and I'm just _so pissed_ about this and... a-and... I don't want that for you guys."

You hear another sigh. "you just have to come over?"

"Sometime soon," you affirm. "Both to yours and Toriel's, assuming that you don't live together."

"you just have to look around, take some pictures, file a report?"

"I-I'm not a police officer. I don't really need pictures."

He gives an amused hum. "ok."

"Um, when do you want to--"

"now. i'll call tori and tell her that i'm bringing you to her place when you're done investigating mine." Pause. "and, uh, thanks for stickin' your neck out for us."

He hangs up immediately after he's done speaking, and you take a second before you lower your phone from your ear. You take a deep breath and punch Sans' address into your phone's GPS before you shove the manila envelope into your bag. You turn up your radio and pull away from the school.

His apartment building turns out to be just a few blocks away from yours--a perfectly respectable part of town normally filled with newlyweds and college students. You stop and ask the building's lobby receptionist where the apartment listed is, and she sends you off in the right direction.

The elevator takes you up to the fourth floor, which only holds about four or five apartments by your count. You take your dear sweet time finding the right one before knocking.

You hear shuffling on the other side of the door.

"who's there?"

"Um, _____, from the elementary school," you say.

"um _____ from the elementary school who?"

You freeze. Oh. My. _God_.

The door opens after a few moments, and Sans is grinning at you, thoroughly amused. You give him a sharp glare.

"you're supposed to give the punchline," he tells you.

"I'll keep that in mind next time," you say, your voice stern but betrayed by a small smile tugging at your lips. He looks too damn pleased with himself. "May I come in?"

"yeah." He turns and gestures for you to follow.

Anxiety washes over you for a moment, but you relax immediately when you take in the surroundings. It's warm and cozy and welcoming. The first area you walk into is the living room, which is very, very simple -- a couch, a TV, a table against the far wall with a rock covered with sprinkles on a plate. You raise an eyebrow and try to ignore the amused smile crossing your face.

It's clean. It's organized. It's just like anyone else's apartment.

"wait here," Sans says, then heads off into a hallway. 

Silence for a moment, then --

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME SOONER THAT WE WOULD HAVE COMPANY?! NOW I DON'T HAVE TIME TO COOK ANY SPAGHETTI."

You wince at the volume of the new voice, but you have to admit that you aren't surprised in the slightest to see another skeleton emerge from the hallway, much taller than Sans. He looks sort of... disheveled. 

"WELCOME TO OUR HOME, HUMAN!" he greets you. "I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS. IT IS A PLEASURE TO MEET YOU."

You shake his now outstretched hand, a little startled by the skin-to-bone contact. 

"I'm _____, Frisk's translator at school," you say. 

"I KNOW WHO YOU ARE. YOU ARE LUCKY I HAD A DAY OFF FROM WORK TODAY. NYEH!" He looks very pleased, and looks at you with twinkling(?) eye sockets. "COME, LET ME SHOW YOU AROUND MY APARTMENT THAT IS ALSO MY BROTHER'S."

Papyrus takes your shoulders and spins you around so you are facing into the living room again. 

"THIS IS OUR LIVING ROOM, WHERE WE WATCH METTATON AND VARIOUS HUMAN TELEVISION SHOWS. OVER THERE IS SANS' PET ROCK THAT HE DOESN'T TAKE CARE OF." He shoots a berating glance at his brother. "HONESTLY, WHAT WOULD SANS DO WITHOUT ME?"

"i have no idea, bro," Sans replies quietly, like it's routine, but he seems happy.

You're pushed not even a few feet away into the kitchen, which is separated from the living room by a large archway. 

"THIS IS THE KITCHEN, WHERE I COOK MY WORLD FAMOUS SPAGHETTI," he continues. "SOMETIMES SANS MAKES FOOD, BUT I AM THE PRIMARY CHEF OF THE HOUSEHOLD."

Papyrus gasps, as if he's realized something. He spins you around again, hands landing back onto your shoulders, and he gazes deep into your eyes. Determination is written all over his face.

"I WILL MAKE YOU ONE OF MY FAMOUS SPAGHETTI DINNERS SO THAT MAYBE MY COOKING WILL IMPRESS YOU ENOUGH THAT YOU WON'T TAKE FRISK AWAY."

You stare at him, wide eyed. He's... totally serious. Sans shuffles over, nervous and prepared so launch into an explanation, but you beat him to it.

"I'm not here to take Frisk away," you say softly, sweetly. You notice that it's the voice you use to calm kids down at the school. "I'm here to make sure that Frisk stays here with you and everyone else that cares for them, because they're very happy and safe with you guys."

Papyrus' eye sockets (somehow) light up -- those are _actual stars_ in them. "YOU MEAN THAT, HUMAN?"

"I do," you affirm.

"and, uh, bro, no need to impress her with spaghetti tonight," Sans adds. "we're all heading to tori's after this."

"COME THEN, HUMAN," Papyrus says abruptly after a long moment of silence. "I WILL SHOW YOU MY ROOM WHICH IS WHERE FRISK SLEEPS WHEN THEY ARE HERE."

Sans looks at you before you follow Papyrus.

"do you _enjoy_ stickin' your neck out for us?" he asks, a little incredulously.

"Something like that," you reply.

Actually, you just like Frisk, who happens to really love these monsters. You're also still appalled that the school board would be calling CPS if you had refused to do this.

You still think it's totally unnecessary.

You follow Papyrus, Sans close behind you. His room is, well, different than you had expected.

A red race car bed is pushed into one corner, and a regular wooden bed is on the other end of the same wall. A large dresser between them is covered in various robot figurines. Another wall holds a bookcase and a computer desk. Crude drawings of skeletons and other monsters are taped haphazardly to the walls.

"THIS IS MY BEDROOM. I SHARE IT WITH FRISK SOMETIMES, USUALLY ON WEEKENDS," Papyrus announces. "THE WALLS SERVE AS FRISK'S ART GALLERY."

"It's a nice room," you say, looking around. Sans hangs back in the doorway.

"THANK YOU, HUMAN," is the happy reply. "IT WAS HARD TO FIND A RACE CAR BED AS COOL AS THE ONE SANS MADE FOR ME IN OUR OLD HOME, SO HE WENT BACK UNDERGROUND TO BRING THIS ONE UP FOR ME."

"Oh?" You examine one of the drawings. It appears to be of Frisk, Sans, and Papyrus. It's horribly colored. You smile.

"YES, MY BROTHER IS VERY GOOD AT MANIPULATING TIME AND SPACE..."

You find yourself tuning Papyrus out for a few minutes while he launches into a speech in order to examine more of the drawings. Frisk and Toriel and another large white monster. Frisk and a fire elemental (who seems vaguely familiar). Frisk and a fish woman and what looks like a tiny yellow dinosaur. Frisk and a golden flower in a pot with a smiley face in the center of the petals. Sans laying on the floor surrounded by ketchup bottles. Frisk with all sorts of different monsters. Frisk knows a lot of monsters, you observe, and seems to love each and every one of them.

"...HONESTLY, SANS IS MUCH COOLER THAN I, BUT DO NOT TELL HIM I SAID THAT. HE WILL ONLY BECOME LAZIER IF HE FINDS OUT."

"Wow," you murmur, still focused on the drawings.

"IN AWE..?" Papyrus pauses, then grabs your shoulders so you have to face him again. "NYEH HEH HEH! YOU ARE RIGHT, HUMAN, SANS IS VERY WORTHY OF YOUR AWE!" 

"aw, shucks, bro," Sans says from the doorway. He had gone unnoticed. "didn't know ya thought of me that way."

Papyrus freezes and turns slowly. The brothers stare at each other for a long moment. Sans' expression is the only one you can see, and it's filled with a mixture of amusement and affection.

"I... YOU..." Papyrus clears his throat. "NYEH! YOU HAVE BEEN THOROUGHLY JAPED BY THE GREAT PAPYRUS, BROTHER!" He pats Sans' head lovingly. "YOU HAVE A LONG WAY TO GO BEFORE YOU ARE AS COOL AS I AM." He moves to leave, but stops, shouting a very quick "BUTYOUAREAVERYCLOSESECONDOKAYGOODBYE!" before running.

You approach Sans after a moment. His grin has fallen, and he's staring after Papyrus with a light blue flush across his face.

"my brother is the coolest, huh?" He turns back to you with a lazy grin. "well? you satisfied, or do ya wanna see my room, too?" He punctuates his remark with a slow wink.

You can't stop your amused snort. "No, no, this is okay. This is great. I'm, uh, totally satisfied. Frisk must be happy here."

"uh, yeah." He scuffs his slipper on the floor, then pulls his phone from his hoodie pocket. "tori says she and frisk just got home. ready to head over?"

"Yeah," you say, "I'm ready."

You head back into the living area, where Papyrus is waiting impatiently. 

"HUMAN! YOU WERE SO IMPRESSED BY MY AWESOME AND COOL BED THAT I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE OPTED TO DRIVE YOU TO TORIEL'S HOUSE IN MY MORE AWESOME AND MUCH COOLER ACTUAL CAR," he announces. "NOW IS THE TIME TO BE THOROUGHLY THANKFUL THAT YOU HAVE IMPRESSED ME."

"You really are the coolest, Papyrus," you praise.

He huffs with satisfaction and leads you from the apartment.

"But, um, Papyrus?" you go on. "I drove over here. My apartment is only a few blocks down, and--"

"THEN YOU CAN DROP YOUR CAR OFF AT YOUR HOME AND THEN GET IN MY CAR," he says simply. "OBVIOUSLY I WILL BE DRIVING YOU BOTH WAYS."

You were going to insist on just following them to Toriel's but okay. This works, too.

Papyrus eyes your silver four-door knowingly before clambering into the red sports car parked next to it. It's perfect for him.

"I CAN SEE WHY YOU WOULD RATHER BE SEEN IN MY CAR," he says almost smugly. 

"I love my car," you say defensively, climbing into it. "I guess, um, follow me."

You start the car, instinctively reaching over to turn down the radio volume. The brothers stare at you while the music quickly goes from blaring to nearly silent.

"There was a song on that I like," you explain through the open window.

You wait for Sans to get into his brother's car before you pull out of the parking spot and into the street. A quick glance to the rear view mirror tells you that they're right behind you. Sans waves from the passenger seat. You wave back.

It only takes about five minutes to drive down to the parking lot of your complex. You wince at the coincidence. Still, you pull into one of the parking spaces reserved for your apartment and get out. Papyrus stops his car right behind yours. 

"IT IS A NICE COMPLEX," Papyrus compliments. You smile at him and lock up your car. Sans moves to get out of the passenger seat.

"I don't mind sitting in the back," you say, opening one of the back doors. "Don't move on my account." 

"ok."

Papyrus pulls away and starts driving down the road before you've even finished buckling your seat belt. You stare distractedly out of the window, occasionally catching Sans watching you in the side mirror. He seems completely rigid and uncomfortable.

Before long, Papyrus turns into a neighborhood with some of the nicer houses you've seen in the area. The car parks in front of one with a rather large fenced-in backyard, and Sans steps out. 

"ready?" he asks, opening your door.

You nod and straighten yourself out, thankful that you had opted to wear something cute today, then follow the skeletons into the house. They don't even bother knocking before they enter. You hesitate, then step over the threshold as well.

It smells _amazing_ in there. The floors are all wooden, and more of Frisk's art is framed on the walls. Moving further inside, you notice a large photograph hanging over the living room's mantle. You try to name all of the people pictured. The obvious ones are Frisk, Papyrus, Sans, and Toriel, but there are three others that you recognize vaguely from the drawings in Papyrus' room. The goat man, the fish woman, the small yellow dinosaur.

"c'mon," Sans says gently, jerking his head towards the kitchen.

You look over to see Toriel with her back turned to you, complete with apron and oven mitts. It's one of the most adorable sights you've ever taken in. She turns and catches sight of you, smiling.

"I did not hear you come in, my child," she says as you walk over to greet her. "Welcome to my home. Please treat it as if it is your own."

"Good..." You glance over at the stove clock. It's five-thirty. You aren't sure what time of day that makes this. "...late afternoon? Evening?"

Toriel giggles and turns to pull something from the oven. You figure it's the source of the delicious smell that hit you at the front door. A steaming pie is placed on a cooling rack and she turns back to you again. "We can call it evening," she says. "Come, dinner will be finished soon, and Asgore will be home shortly, as well. Ah, and Papyrus?" The skeleton straightens up. "Will you run upstairs and fetch Frisk?"

With a loud "NYEH!", Papyrus sprints up the stairs. You hang your purse and jacket on one of the dining chairs. 

"I feel like I should know this," you venture, "but who is Asgore?"

"did you not read frisk's file?" Sans asks with an amused snort. "he's their other guardian."

"He is my... husband," Toriel says, a little apprehensive. 

Did you strike a nerve?

Toriel must pick up on your slight anxiety, because her warm smile returns. "Do not worry. He and I are just mending our relationship after some... _hardships_."

Sans mutters something incoherently, but you're too distracted by Papyrus' return to ask him what he said. Frisk runs in front of you and grins, holding up a potted flower...

...that has a face?

"Who the hell is this?" it hisses.

"FRISK'S TRANSLATOR FRIEND. WE WENT OVER THIS," Papyrus supplies, sounding exasperated. "THIS IS FLOWEY, FRISK'S PET FLOWER."

"Howdy!" Flowey says with mock cheer, glaring at you.

"Howdy!" another voice echoes -- a deep, booming voice filled with evident kindness. "I see we have guests tonight."

You turn to greet this new person.

Monster.

Giant white goat man monster in a Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts.

"Hi," you say, mustering up your courage. You're a professional and you need to act like one, even if something about his presence feels totally regal. "You must be Asgore."

"Indeed," he says, grasping your hand between his two giant paws. They're much larger than Toriel's. "You must be _____, then. What brings you here?"

"SHE IS MAKING SURE FRISK DOES NOT GET TAKEN AWAY," Papyrus says matter-of-factly.

Asgore stares at you incredulously for a moment, then bursts into laughter. "Oh goodness!" he exclaims. "Are we causing _that_ much of an uproar?"

"Dinner," Toriel calls. 

"Dear human, have you been offered tea?" Asgore continues, almost excitedly. "I have this great one that I--"

" _Asgore_ ,” Toriel calls sternly. You freeze. So does just about everyone else.

She is definitely a mother.

Asgore offers a sheepish smile and heads into the kitchen, murmuring something about helping out. Frisks tugs on your hand and leads you to the dinner table, sitting you between them Sans and them on one side of the table. They set Flowey on top like a centerpiece.

“HUMAN, DO YOU LIKE SPAGHETTI?” Papyrus asks.

You live off of spaghetti. You’re a college student.

“It’s pretty good,” you say.

“WELL, YOU ARE IN LUCK!”

You wince at the amount of spaghetti placed in front of you. It’s a literal mountain, enough to feed at least three hungry college students.

“Papyrus, she’ll never eat all of that,” Toriel says sweetly. 

“NONSENSE! FRISK WANTED TO SHARE.”

“uh.” Sans shifts in his seat and grins at you knowingly. “heh.”

Frisk pulls an extra long noodle off of the plate, putting one end in their mouth and holding the other out to you as everyone joined you at the table. 

The child smirks and waggles their eyebrows at you.

“Are you...” You narrow your eyes and bite back a laugh. This isn’t happening. It’s too cute. “Frisk,” you continue, signing along, “are you hitting on me?”

Silence. More brow waggles. Sans snickers.

You ruffle their hair before deciding to let them down gently. You can hear the laugh in your voice. “This isn’t Lady and the Tramp, kiddo. I’m sorry.”

Frisk huffs before pulling half of Mount Vermicelli onto their empty plate.

“Frisk, I told you not to flirt with guests,” Toriel scolds.

Frisk shrugs and stuffs their face. Everyone else starts eating, as well as absently giving meatballs to Flowey. You brace yourself for something weird to happen with your first bite, like the crackle of magic or--

Nope. Regular spaghetti.

“expecting something magical?” Sans teases, poking a meatball. You glare at him, and he gives you a slow wink.

“I was prepared for the possibility,” you admit.

He spears the meatball and leans across you to feed it to Flowey.

He smells like ketchup and cologne.

Dinner passes with vague but friendly conversation -- you explain why you’re conducting home visits at all, and Toriel is very understanding. She also explains that not all monsters have to eat magic-infused food all of the time, and it really depended on the type of monster and the level of energy and magic they had at the time (for example, Sans and Papyrus always have to have theirs infused with magic because, well, they don’t have digestive systems). This is probably the most sensible thing you’ve learned about monsters, which honestly hasn’t been much.

Soon, Toriel is clearing the table. You stand and start helping carry the stacks of plates that have accumulated. 

“Ah, you do not need to--”

“It’s the least I can do, after barging in like this and questioning your parenting on behalf of the school,” you insist, a little bitter about the situation still, and you follow her into the kitchen.

Though Asgore is keeping up conversation at the table, you’re vaguely aware of everyone’s eyes on you, and for good reason: you interrupted _and_ talked back to the goat mom in one sentence. She smiles and hands you a towel after you set the plates on the counter.

“You dry, then,” she says.

She pulls giant rubber gloves over her paws (a necessary precaution; you can only imagine how many times this sink has been clogged with white fur), and gets the sink running. She almost immediately hands you one of the plates. You get to thinking, and let out a short, self-deprecating laugh.

“Are you alright?” Toriel asks.

“I was just thinking,” you tell her. “I was sent to do something terrible. I’m questioning your parenting and your lifestyle and everything else, because the school told me to, and it’s awful. But here I am, helping you wash the dinner dishes, and you’re treating me like an old friend.” You sigh and let another slightly hysterical chuckle out. “I can’t help but feel like I’m being a little... overly friendly.”

Toriel stares at you for a long moment and turns off the water. Everyone's eyes are still on you, and it's not just vague realization anymore. They're burning holes in your back and you tense up a little bit. Toriel's expression is unreadable, and it appears as if she's looking through you.

A gloved paw flies up to cover her sudden fit of giggles.

"Oh my... Overly friendly?" She snorts as she falls into true laughter, a rich, delightful sound that makes a smile tug at the corners of your mouth. "Oh no, my child, you are the perfect amount of friendly. You've been very great to Frisk and to us as well, and we cannot appreciate that more."

You murmur your thanks and look to the floor, slightly embarrassed. You chance a glance over at the table, where everyone is still sitting, smiling at you now. Sans offers his third wink of the day. 

"You must stay for pie," she tells you.

Honestly, your stomach may explode if you try to eat any more.

"I... think I'm good," you say with a sheepish smile. "I don't think I'd be able to."

"yeah, we gotta hit the road," Sans cuts in. You jump. When did he end up beside you?! "we're the ride home."

"Then you'll be taking some home," she decides. Sans shrugs, and she begins cutting slices of the pie. She hands you a container with two slices in it. "Come again sometime," she says kindly, "and make sure it is not 'official business', okay?"

"Please do!" Asgore calls from the table. 

"ready pap?" Sans asks after you've distributed your goodbyes.

Before you can walk out, Frisk attacks you, hugging you and nuzzling into your stomach. You crouch to hug them back and wave when you pull away.

The car ride home is quiet. Papyrus is fairly silent until he pulls into the parking lot in the spot next to your car. 

"want us to, uh, walk you up?" Sans asks. His non-committal tone makes you think he doesn't really want to.

"No, it's fine, really," you say. "Um, don't worry about the school. I'll make sure everything is taken care of properly."

Sans goes to say something else as you get out of the car, but Papyrus cuts him off.

"FRISK SEEMS TO LIKE YOU TOO, HUMAN," he says. "THEY HUGGED YOU VERY HARD. I DO NOT EVEN RECEIVE HUGS THAT HARD. ALSO YOU WILL HAVE TO COME OVER AGAIN SO I CAN MAKE YOU SPAGHETTI."

You raise the hand holding your boxed pie in agreement and smile. 

"If you want to, then I'll come by sometime," you say.

Sans nods approvingly, and Papyrus launches into a speech about how wonderful it will be.

It's a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thursday!  
> I just want to thank you guys for all of the love and support I've received so far. I didn't expect such strong support after just one chapter! I'm super psyched to continue writing this, and boy, do I have some fun planned.  
> I realize how late at night it is (I'm Eastern Standard Time, and it's nearly 11pm for me right now), but it's still technically Thursday.  
> Oh woah what is this a place for you to talk to me????? That's a thing????  
> -casually slides my tumblr link over the table-  
> [Take this](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)


	3. SPEAR OF JUSTICE!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the author listened to nothing but Spear of Justice for three straight days and it's still stuck in her head

You're having a hard time dragging yourself out of bed.

It's career day at the school, which means the morning will consist of kids showing off their parents, and the afternoon will have various outdoor activities, kind of like a field day. And you get to translate everything.

You groan into your pillow one last time before moving like a snail into your kitchen. Neo sees you and meows loudly, as if he's starving to death, and paws at the cabinet where you hide his food. You fill his bowl (he jumps on it like a vulture) and scratch under his chin before setting your coffee maker to brew half a pot. 

You leave the kitchen long enough to take a quick shower and put on clothes -- you pick something comfortable and slip on some obnoxiously bright pink sneakers. You grab your phone and check the time, grimacing at the idea of leaving in less than twenty minutes. You chug one cup of coffee, haphazardly apply some mascara (deeming anything else too much of a hassle if you're going to be outside), and dump the rest of the still warm coffee into a travel mug. You add a last-minute granola bar to your purse and stick your usual lunch of a bagel and whatever fruit juice you happen to have a tiny bottle of (apple juice for today) into your lunch bag, and you're off. You chance an early morning text to Sans.

**You (7:23am): Who should I expect for career day today?**

You work your way out of your apartment, holding Neo in a quick, forced snuggle before you do, and rush down to your car. Your phone buzzes before you even put the key in the ignition.

**Sans (7:28am): no idea. never knew there was a career day.**

**Sans (7:28am): but i know it's not toriel or asgore. they're with me today.**

**Sans (7:30am): oh shit i just found out who it is. good luck.**

**You (7:30am): Who???**

**Sans (7:31am): you'll see.**

You glare at your phone and place it in the cup holder not occupied by your travel mug, starting your car immediately afterward. Screw Sans and his vague texts. You've got places to be.

The elementary school is a twenty minute drive from your apartment complex in good traffic, and traffic is looking good so far. You turn up your radio's volume a bit and don't turn it down until you're circling in the elementary school parking lot, searching for a space to leave your vehicle in for the day.

You eventually find one and pull in, gathering your belongings and heading to the main office to sign in. There seems to be a bit of nervous chatter. 

"Hi," you say to the receptionist that's actually at her desk. She makes note of your arrival time and sucks in a deep breath.

"Oh my god," she breathes. "Good luck today. I understand you'll need it."

You give her a hard glare and head upstairs. Both a monster and a human have wished you luck on something.

Maybe you'll need it..?

You shake the thought from your head. It doesn't matter who Frisk brings. Maybe it'll be Papyrus. Maybe he has some super-cool job you don't know about. You turn into your classroom and get your desk set up and your stuff put away. There were about twenty minutes before the school buses would allow the children into the school, but considering some kids were bringing in their parents, you could assume that they would be trickling in early. You sit and take the time to drink your coffee.

Mrs. Anderson comes in not too long after you do. She looks anxious and unprepared, which is completely unlike her. 

"Good morning," you greet her. She just stares at you, perfectly still, as if trying to register your presence. Soon, she cracks a weak smile and lets out a short laugh.

"Hello," she replies. "I'm sorry, I'm fine. Just not looking forward to today." She sits down at her desk with a sigh. "Years ago, I would have been able to run around with the kids this afternoon, no problem... But now, I'm so _old_."

She grins at you, daring you to comment on her age. You ignore the bait and slowly lift one leg onto your desk, showing off your bright pink shoes.

"I came prepared," you say dramatically. "I will run in your stead."

She barks out a laugh and waves her hand dismissively. "Put your leg down. I hear parents."

Several children file in with their parents, as if on cue, as soon as your foot touches the floor. Among them (and receiving a wide berth) is Frisk, accompanied by a monster that you recognize from photos: a rather tall, blue fish woman with an eye patch, leather jacket, tight jeans, and cute boots that you honestly want in your closet. Frisk catches sight of you, latches on to the monster, and drags her over to you.

You stand and sign as well as speak. "Good morning!"

_*"This is my best friend!"_ Frisk signs proudly.

"Undyne," the monster says, holding out a hand, her one yellow eye assessing you. You reach out as well.

"My name is--"

"ERGH! I know who you are," she interrupts, taking your hand and shaking it roughly. Her skin (scales?) feel cool, like water. "Papyrus doesn't _shut up_ about you."

That brings a small smile to your face. It's been a week since you met Papyrus, and so far, he's sent you encouraging texts every single day.

"I-it's nice to meet you," you say, still a little startled. 

"You, too." She drops your hand and shifts her gaze around the now filled room. She splays her hands out on your desk and leans in a little, speaking quietly. "Everyone's going to be cool today, right?"

You look around. Seeing as she's the only monster, you know what she means. 

"If anything happens, I'll take care of it," you say. 

"Sans said you were a good kid," she says, offering a very large, very toothy grin. "I can see why. You're already trying to take care of me."

You feel your cheeks burn at the compliment, but Mrs. Anderson waving you to the front of the room offers sweet relief from this conversation. You oblige and take your position next to the white board, hands ready to be put to use.

"Good morning," Mrs. Anderson starts, her voice filled with a mother's authority. It gains everyone's attention. "Before we begin our morning activities, there is something I would like to discuss. Today is a day of tolerance, and I expect everyone, parents included, to show the respect they wish to receive. Parents, be an example for the children. Any negative or harmful thoughts are to be left unsaid. Am I clear?"

There is a general murmur of agreement, but you notice that Undyne is receiving a few sideways glances from the other adults. 

"On that note," she continues, "I would like everyone to be aware and respectful of the fact that there is a deaf child in our class."

There's a disgusted snort from one of the adults, and Undyne tenses like a cat about to pounce. You watch as Frisk runs a hand absently over one of the fins (ears?) on the side of Undyne's head, earning a small smile from the woman, who relaxes almost immediately. Her attention returns to the front of the room.

"We will start with attendance and today's date, then we will jump right into the parent presentations, since we have quite a few to get through."

Every single kid brought a parent. It's going to take all morning to get through. 

Attendance goes by quickly, and the class immediately starts volunteering their parents to speak. You get bored quickly, and as you expected, it takes the entire morning. There were so many police officers and doctors that the words are starting to make you want to vomit, but you sign along anyway. Eventually, the only ones left are Frisk and Undyne.

_"You're the last one,"_ you sign, and Frisk nods.

They take Undyne's hand and lead her to the front, right next to you. They motion for you to go stand back and watch, since you don't technically have to translate this one for them. You stand at the side of the room, near the door, and look on. You give Undyne a thumbs up when she looks over at you.

"My name is Undyne," she starts slowly, "and I'm one of the people who take care of Frisk. I used to be the captain of the Royal Guard while we were still Underground--"

"We all know monsters work security," one parent (you remember him being a bank teller) pipes up. "Just say it and get it over with."

Undyne gains a vicious glint in her eye and smirks. 

"Yeah, I work security," she says. She's visibly becoming more and more pumped up. "But I'm not a bouncer like most monsters. No, I'm something that's _way cooler._ "

She has everyone's undivided attention now.

"I'm a bounty hunter."

She pauses to bask in the cries of awe and delight that erupt from the children. She's practically vibrating as she flexes. 

"THAT'S RIGHT! If some bad guy doesn't come to court, or skips out on their bail, I'M the one they have to answer to!" Her volume is slowly picking up, and you make a motion for her to take it down a notch. Luckily, she sees. "I bring them in to court so justice can be served! It's actually a lot like my job Underground."

"Do you have weapons?!" one kid shouts, just as excited as Undyne is. "Can you show us?!" 

You quickly sign the question out so Frisk know's what's going on, and they just smile knowingly. 

Mrs. Anderson, however, is the one that gives Undyne approval to show them a weapon, as long as she doesn't use it or let anyone touch it. 

Undyne's grin grows. "I have a gun, like anyone else, but I also have something way cooler than that."

She reaches out a hand and clenches her fist around a bright blue spear. The familiar fizz of magic is in the air. Cue more delighted gasps and chatter.

"I create spears, like this," she goes on proudly. "I can make hundreds at once! Maybe thousands! I've never actually counted, but..." She opens her hand and lets the spear fade away. "Just imagine! No bad guy would ever run from me. They know I'd win!"

There's some applause from the children and a couple of the parents, but Undyne is receiving a lot of dirty looks. You hope you won't have to clean up hell later.

The lunch bell sounds, and Mrs. Anderson claps her hands. 

"Go ahead and go to the cafeteria," she announces. "Feel free to stay here and eat, too. If any parents would like to stay for field day, come back here after lunch."

The class disperses, following Mrs. Anderson in a less than orderly line, but Frisk taps your arm.

* _"Are you staying here?"_

You nod.

Frisk goes back to their desk and signs something at Undyne before pilling out your lunch bag. Still, you linger near the door. They're the only two staying. 

"You gonna come sit or what, nerd?" Undyne asks, looking up from her own lunch. Her tone is hostile, but her expression isn't.

"Yeah," you say. You grab your bag and phone from the cabinet and join them.

She stares at you for a moment.

"Papyrus says you're his new best friend," she says.

You smile. "I haven't even known him for that long," you tell her, "but he has been texting me every day. It's kind of cute."

A large grin forms on her face again.

"You know," she says tauntingly, leaning slightly over the table, "with the way you blushed when I mentioned Sans earlier, one would think that _he's_ the one that you think is--"

"I blushed at the compliment," you say hotly. "Honestly. I thought he didn't like me or something, so it was a surprise hearing that he thinks that I'm an okay person. Papyrus keeps inviting me over for dinner, but then telling me that when he mentioned it to Sans, it was shot down for one excuse or another."

Undyne's grin grows impossibly larger, and her eye narrows. You're filled with a sense of dread.

"So quick to defend yourself," she teases.

You maintain eye contact and take a bite of your bagel. Frisk signs something at Undyne that you can't make out because of how their body is angled, but Undyne barks out a laugh and slams her hand down on the table.

"I ship it, too," she growls.

"SO," you say, ready to change the subject, "you were captain of the Royal Guard? What was that like?"

"I had to capture humans and take them to our king," she says simply. "It was easy... Until this little jerk came along." She ruffles Frisk's hair.

You tilt your head with an unspoken question.

"You not watch the news?" Undyne snorts. "Asgore is our king. Toriel is the queen. We had six human souls, and we needed one more the break the barrier and get out of the Underground. Frisk would have been the seventh." She takes a deep breath, and her face contorts into a fond smile. "But they made friends with Papyrus and Sans. And literally everyone else. They found a way to get us all out without ever hurting anyone. They're our ambassador now."

You ignore your obvious ignorance and sigh. "And getting a soul would mean..?"

"To get a soul, you have to kill someone."

Frisk waves to get your attention.

_*"All of the people you've met so far have tried to kill me. Even mom."_

You sputter in disbelief, looking for words. All of these monsters that very obviously love Frisk more than anything have tried to _kill_ them? Papyrus mentioned training to be part of the Royal Guard, so you could see him trying to capture Frisk and failing miserably by being way too nice, but you can't see him trying to kill them. And Sans... doesn't seem like the type to waste the energy unless it got really bad.

But then again, he had been ready to dunk on some third graders not that long ago.

You waste time talking to Undyne about anything and everything, and you're thankful that she seems to like you well enough. Soon, all of the children start filing back into the room, as well as a few of the parents. You assumed that the ones still present had taken the entire day off of work.

"Can you take care of this part?" Mrs. Anderson asks you as she comes in. "I don't think I could do it."

"Yeah," you say. She's _really_ upset about not being able to participate with the kids.

You clean up your lunch and put your stuff back in the cabinet before taking your position at the front of the room. You clear your throat. You speak as well as sign, as always.

"Okay, everyone," you say, hoping that your voice draws attention the same way that Mrs. Anderson's or Toriel's does. To your surprise, everyone is suddenly silent and looking at you. "For the rest of the afternoon, we'll be outside. Today if, of course, our school's field day."

Undyne looks pumped.

"We have our very basic rules that apply all the time," you go on. "No pushing or shoving, no saying things that aren't nice. We'll be playing fair or not at all. Understood?"

You feel a twinge of pride at the sight of the hurried, frantic nods from students and parents alike. Undyne flashes a grin and gives you a thumbs up. So does Frisk.

"Everyone will get water bottles outside, and I was told that there'll be a Nice Cream cart at the end where you can get a free popsicle, which is super cool."

Unintentional crappy pun that you're pretty sure nobody picked up on. That's always good.

"It's hot out today, even though it's still March, so you don't need your jackets." You pause to let people take off their jackets, Undyne included (it reveals a black muscle tank when she removes hers). "Everyone line up at the door, and we'll head out."

You gain what control you can over the jittery line of third graders before you lead them downstairs and out of the building. You chance a wave as you pass the thicket of trees that Sans had hidden in before, just in case he's there again on some off chance, then continue to the large field behind the school.

First stop, the obstacle course. 

The gym teacher explains what to do, and you translate it for Frisk. Climb over the blue wall, hop across the pond (a blue wrestling mat) via foam lily pads, walk across a (very close to the ground so no one gets hurt if they fall) balance beam, and race through a line of car tires by putting one foot at a time in each one.

Easy.

Undyne hoists Frisk up onto her shoulders and stands at the back of the line. With every second that passes, her grin grows wider, her bouncing more impatient.

You wonder if you should stop this now.

She waits, almost patiently, until most of the kids are done, then--

She vaults over the blue wall, no problem.

She clears the pond within two strides.

She sprints across the balance beam like it's nothing.

She gets to the tires, never slowing her pace. She's good, she's halfway through, she's--

Falling.

Undyne's boot catches on one of the tires, and she falls face first into the ground. Frisk somehow wriggles away and lands safely beside her. You rush over to help her up, but dear god, this is hilarious.

"Are you okay?" you ask, biting back a laugh.

"Never better," she grunts. "On to the next one!"

The rest of the afternoon goes by in much of the same way.

With the egg-on-a-spoon race, Undyne manages to get the egg across the finish line -- by flinging it in an attempt to be the winner.

With the water balloon toss, she throws their over-sized balloon a little too hard. Frisk twists out of the way, and the balloon bursts on your shirt instead. You thank the universe that you aren't wearing white.

Undyne practically drags Frisk across the ground during the three-legged race. 

When they have to fill up a bucket by squeezing water out of sponges, Undyne somehow doesn't screw up.

At least, not until she gets impatient and throws a sopping wet sponge, which promptly leaves a huge wet mark on your jeans.

The wheelbarrow race is a disaster. Undyne tries to move faster than Frisk can manage, and they topple over. More than once.

All of it is pretty funny to watch, any by the end, Undyne is laughing about it, too. Soon, all of the kids are getting cold treats from the Nice Cream cart. By the time you get up there, the blue rabbit monster is removing his (unreadable) name tag and gathering his belongings.

"Ah, I'm sorry," he says, "but we're switching shifts. My replacement should be here any second."

As he walks away, you feel a concentrated burst of magic, and what emerges from the resulting pool of darkness is...

...God damn it, Sans.

"oh, hey," he greets you. "didn't know the school had a water park."

You give an amused snort. "Undyne and water don't mix well, which is funny. She's kind of a fish."

"HEY," Undyne protests, taking two popsicles from Sans and handing one to Frisk. 

He grins. "must'a been some _fin_ of a bad time," he says. "that experience couldn't have gone _swimmingly_."

"Sans, shut up," Undyne growls.

"the way you're behavin' is a little _fishy_ , undyne. is everything ok?"

"NGGAHHHH! Come on, Frisk!" Undyne takes Frisk and marches away, sitting under a tree. Sans chuckles as you stifle your laughter.

"didn't know you liked puns," he says, handing you a popsicle.

"I've been known to let one slip once in a while," you tell him.

The two of you stand in silence for a moment while more kids come up to get popsicles. Sans rests his chin in his palm and shifts the lights in his eye sockets to look at you once they leave. 

"you know, it's gonna melt if you don't eat it," he tells you quietly.

"When are you going to let Papyrus have me over?" you ask, ignoring him, watching the light blue popsicle melt onto your finger. "He keeps saying that you won't let him."

Sans shifts in place. "uh. eventually."

"Eventually," you drawl. "I'll pretend that means sometime soon."

You take note that his gaze keeps flicking between you and the popsicle. Either he's concerned about it melting, or there's something else going on in his head.

You have to figure that, even if he lacks some of the components, he must understand one thing or another about human anatomy.

You then do something that you wouldn't normally do, but it would make your college friends proud. You want to see, just for a second, what kind of reaction you can get out of this easy going skeleton.

You make eye contact with him, lick the melted popsicle from your finger, and put the popsicle in your mouth You linger for a second, watching his light blue flush slowly become navy, before you turn away and head over to Undyne and Frisk with a nonchalant wave to him over your shoulder.

You hear a very quiet, very flustered-sounding "oh fuck ok" from behind you.

You accept the tiny bit of confidence blooming in your chest with a smirk.

But you make a point to have an embarrassed meltdown about it when you get home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off: okay so I swear to you that this chapter is (subtly) setting up for the next few chapters. Also I wrote it before I set up most of the rest of the fic, so the amount of time spent tweaking it was ridiculous. (And I'm still more or less unhappy with it but you beauties deserve an update on time)  
> Secondly (but most importantly): I just want to thank you all again. Like, holy shit???!!!!?!?!? I'm getting so much love and you guys have no idea how much I appreciate it. If you've commented, you already know that I try to get back to you as quickly as possible, even if it's just with a "Thank you!". Your comments keep me going, and if you're nervous about it for some reason and don't want people to know you're looking at my fic, you can shoot me an anonymous ask over on my tumblr! Don't be afraid to talk to me, even if it has nothing to do with the fic.  
> Third and final point: I'm taking suggestions! I have the general story line planned out already, but if there's some awkward scenarios or interesting ideas you want to share, I would love to take them into consideration. I love making characters suffer.  
> [TAKE THIS THING](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)


	4. Still Technically a College Student

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet your non-magical, very human friends and nothing at all bad happens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S STILL THURSDAY SOMEWHERE.

Because of the job you picked up at the elementary school, you had to sign up for online-only classes this semester (which is fine; it's mostly independant study). Because of that, it's been a while since you've seen your friends -- your non-magical, very human college friends, that is. Granted, there are only two of them, but the three of you have stuck together since orientation your first year.

More or less. You're pretty different from them, but they make a point to include you in things and make you feel loved. And you do feel loved. 

It's the weekend, and you had planned to sleep in. That's all you wanted to do, damn it, but fate is cruel. That forces you to deem your phone ringing something of an insult.

You answer the phone without checking to see who it is. You're still half asleep and tangled in blankets.

"'lo?" is all you can manage.

"Jesus Christ, babe, you still asleep?" Familiar female voice. She laughs. "Come let me in."

"Yeah, 'm comin'," you mumble.

You hang up and wrap yourself in your blanket before you shuffle out to your front door. You open it to reveal a very welcome sight.

With her, it's always crop tops and either tight jeans or shorts. It's jeans today. It pisses you off that she can pull it off flawlessly (you don't have the confidence to try the crop top life). She sweeps you into a warm hug.

"Goooooood morning, beautiful," she sings.

"Morning, Kendra," you reply, muffled by her shoulder. She's nearly six inches taller than you.

She invites herself in, stooping to pet Neo on the way. You follow her, closing the door behind the two of you.

"Ready for tonight?" she asks, plopping down on your couch and twirling her keys around her finger.

You sit next to her and raise an eyebrow. "I don't remember making any plans."

"We didn't," she tells you. "But it's Saturday, you don't have to work, and you can't avoid me forever." She pauses, combing a tangle out of your hair with her fingers. "How's that going, by the way? The work thing? Nolan and I haven't heard much from you."

You lean into her touch and sigh. "It's been... interesting."

"So? Last I heard, you had to meet the kid's guardians on the first day and you were losing your shit. Tell me what happened."

"They turned out to be monsters," you tell her. "The kid, which is human, their name is Frisk, and they're a sweetie. Um, Toriel and Asgore are their primary guardians--"

"Toriel and Asgore? Like, the monster monarchy?"

"Yeah, shush," you say. She moves on to a different tangle. "Okay, then there's this fish lady named Undyne who's pretty cool but also kind of obnoxious and rude sometimes." You think about how she had demanded that you give her your phone number after field day, and has been constantly teasing you about Sans since. "Uh. Then there's these skeleton brothers, Papyrus and Sans."

She hums, turning her attention to Neo as the small cat jumps onto the couch between you.

"Papyrus is a little loud, but he's a sweetheart. He's super nice." You stare at the blank TV screen for a moment. "Then there's Sans."

There's silence for a moment. Kendra raises an eyebrow. "Sans?"

"Yup."

"Are we on good or bad terms with this Sans?"

"Kendra," you warn.

She's gonna start teasing you and you know it. You brace yourself. Her grin grows impossibly wide, and for a moment, you swear that Undyne is in the room, possessing your very human friend.

"Or are these _really_ good terms with Sans?"

"Jesus Christ."

"Okay, okay, seriously." She pats your shoulder. "Why are you so apprehensive about talking about Sans?"

"I don't know how to feel right now," you tell her. "The first time I met him, I didn't really even -- okay. So he was hiding in the trees by the playground, and Frisk was getting picked on, so I ran outside to stop it, right?" Kendra nods. "So then I was calming Frisk down and they were like, 'You didn't have to help because he would have dunked on them," so I asked who and they pointed and all I could see was, like, blue fire, which I found out later comes out of his eye socket when he's getting ready to do some serious magic... And he threatened me and gave me his phone number and texted me to say goodnight?"

Kendra lets out an undignified snort of laughter. "Okay, oh my god, that's kind of hilarious. Continue."

"So later that week, the school board made me do home visits, because oh no, monsters are taking care of a human child and we can't have that! I called him and he just told me to come over. Turns out he lives, like, five minutes that way?" You point in the general direction of the skeleton's apartment. "And he lives with his super sweet little brother. Then we drove over to Toriel's and had dinner and went home, and Papyrus told me to come over and have dinner with them sometime."

"You sound like there's still more," she prompts.

"Yeah. So, fast forward to Wednesday. Field day. I'll keep this one short. Dear god, promise you won't tell Nolan this part."

She holds up two fingers. "Scout's honor."

You take a deep breath, your embarrassment creeping up on your cheeks. "Well. There was a Nice Cream cart, right? And he was working it. Sans was. And, um, we were talking, and I swear I have no idea why, but I wanted to see if I could get a reaction out of him. I mean, he's so easy going..."

Kendra's grin is huge, almost as huge as one of Undyne's.

"And, um, my popsicle melted onto my finger, so I, um, made eye contact--"

"Holy shit."

"--and licked it off of my finger--"

"Ho. Lee. Shit."

"--then put the rest of the popsicle in my mouth and stood there just staring at him for a second and waited for him to get flustered and then I walked away."

"Holy shitballs."

You're expecting laughter, but Kendra just gets an evil glint in her eye. You hide your face in your hands. 

"You heard from him since?"

"No..."

"Oh my god! Babe, that is _golden_! I'm so proud of you right now, lemme tell ya." She goes back to stroking your hair. 

"Don't tell Nolan," you whine.

Nolan would make everything worse. He would purposely hunt Sans down and force you to interact with him in the most embarrassing way possible. That's just the kind of asshole he is. 

"I said scout's honor!" Kendra chides.

"Okay, okay," you say, grinning at her. "So, why are you really here? I know you're not just here to hear about my awkward and embarrassing interactions with a skeleton."

"Forgive me for wanting to see my very best friend." She pouts at you, then goes back to petting a very content Neo. "Actually, I had some shopping to do before tonight, and I wanted you to come along. Oh god, I have to reward you! You're definitely coming with. Your bravery deserves a gift."

"Don't reward me for embarrassing myself," you grumble.

"I'm rewarding you for being bold," she tells you simply. "God knows you need to do that a little more often. Besides, we're going out tonight, so I may as well keep you out of the house all day. Remember that monster pub that Nolan and I told you about? Grillby's?"

You squint at her. "Vaguely."

"Okay. Dude. The bartender's freakin' hot. It's super laid back in there."

Your squinting turns into a narrow-eyed glare. 

"You're coming with us tonight. That's where we're going," she says slowly, as if you hadn't picked up on that fact.

You grimace. The last time that Kendra said that a bar was laid back, it wasn't. It was the exact opposite. Still, the idea of some much-needed quality time with her and Nolan was a welcome one, and you couldn't help smiling.

"It kinda sounds like fun," you admit.

"Great! Go shower or something. You're a mess."

You stick your tongue out at her, but get up and head into the bathroom nonetheless. Once out of the shower, you put on the most casual outfit you think that she'll let you get away with -- a pair of tight jeans and some cute ankle boots, topped with a black tee that reads "Let's Get Weird" in tie-dye lettering that may or may not be from the men's department.

You venture back out into the living room, and you're immediately greeted by the scent of coffee. Another welcome intrusion. Kendra is busy sifting through your cabinets.

"All you eat is granola bars and bagels," she says, her tone somewhere between disgust and concern. "You'd think with the new job, you'd be living a little larger."

You shrug, reaching around her to pour a cup of coffee. She watches you drink it and starts twirling her keys around her finger again.

"Ready," you say, setting the mug in the sink.

Her eyes sweep over you, and she nods with vague approval. Together, the two of you leave your apartment. You clamber into her little black car and prepare yourself for whatever fiasco you'll have to face today.

* * *

Surprisingly, not much happens.

The mall is a bit deeper into downtown than Grillby's is; in fact, you drive right past the brick-fronted building on your way. It looks cozy and inviting, and you already feel a little better about going there tonight.

Maybe it won't be so bad.

You wander around the too-large and too-full hallways of the mall before Kendra finally picks out what she needs (a new black cardigan for a gallery opening she's going to, as well as more crop tops, because they were far too cute to pass up). She pulls you over to a jewelry display and motions for you to look around.

"See anything you like?" she asks. 

You're not the type to wear too much jewelry, as sometimes you feel that it gets in the way, but when Kendra decides to give a gift, there's no telling her otherwise. This leads you to a small table with a large variety of rings scattered across its surface. Rings are okay. Necklaces and bracelets feel more like special occasion-type things. You sort through the rings for a few minutes before Kendra starts snickering.

"What?" you ask, raising an eyebrow at her.

"This." She holds up a stainless steel ring. Part of the band is shaped like a skeletal hand. She grabs your right hand and slips it onto your middle finger. A perfect fit.

You stare at it for a moment. There's a tiny skeleton hand holding your finger, and you know that Kendra is set on this one. A skeletal reminder of your awkward encounter.

"If that's what you want to reward me with," you sigh, taking it off and handing it to her. 

She practically squeals with delight and bolts to the checkout counter to buy it before you can change your mind. She returns to your side and places it back on your finger.

"Thanks for the gift," you say quietly. No matter what it's rewarding, it's still sweet of her to buy you things.

"You can buy me lunch," she says in reply, smiling at you. You smile back.

* * *

The weight of the ring on your finger is soon forgotten. It's evening, slowly turning to dusk, and you're leaning against the brick front of Grillby's with Kendra at your side. Nolan is late, as always. 

But then, he's in front of you, his black hood pulled over his head, as it always is. His dark curls in front of his darker eyes, and you can see light catching on his silver septum ring. Upon closer examination, you notice that he's wearing eyeliner. That's a new development.

"Hey, lady," he greets you, pulling you into a warm hug. He smells vaguely of cigarette smoke. "Long time no see. Sick skeleton ring."

"I bought it for her," Kendra pipes up proudly.

You smile fondly at them. 

"Aw, babe, get me one next time, yeah? he whines. 

Kendra grins. "Ready to go in?"

She pulls the door open, and the three of you wander in. The inside is even more comforting than the outside. Just walking in makes you feel as if you've curled up in front of a fireplace with a book and a cup of tea. It's comfortably warm and near-filled with patrons, monsters and humans alike. Kendra leads you to the bar and sits you down towards the end. 

You take note of the bartender. Kendra had said he was hot, but you didn't expect to see that he's a _fire elemental_ , crackling like he is, indeed, the fireplace you had envisioned, and wearing glasses for eyes that you must not be able to see. You mentally chasitse her for the unforgiving pun. The bartender nods in your direction and walks away. He never comes by and asks what you want, but upon his return, he places a glass in front of each of you, each one identical to one another. The liquid is dark purple.

"Okay, babe, you gotta try this shit," Nolan tells you. You prop an elbow on the bar and twist to look at him.

"I get the feeling that I'm going to regret it," you say honestly.. "Knowing you, there's something wrong with it."

He laughs. "No, I'm not that big of an asshole." Pause. "At least I'm not right now." He grins at you and picks up his drink. "I'm serious, babe. Drink." He downs his glass in one gulp.

"It's not a shot!" Kendra scolds. "But babe, it's totally safe. And hella delicious. Try it."

You take a sip of the dark liquid. It tastes like blackberries and heavy cream and club soda, but with something else that tingles and burns your throat as it goes down. You figure there must be some kind of vodka in there. You have to admit, though, that it's pretty good.

"I'm not getting drunk," you tell them. 

"Fine," Nolan sighs. "You're no fun." His grin lingers as he flags the bartender down (he refers to him as Grillby, so you assume that's the elemental's name) and taps the top of his glass. 

"Any new art I should be on the lookout for?" you ask him.

Nolan is an art major, but his true passion lies with putting on a hockey mask and spray painting the alleys of downtown Mt. Ebott. He smiles, points at you, and raises his finger to his lips.

"Always," he says. "Check the side of the police station sometime. They're gonna have a hell of a time getting my words of wisdom offa their brick."

"Ballsy," you comment.

Suddenly, the bar erupts into excited greetings. Unable to make out the name, you look to Nolan, who had turned around and joined in the shouting, raising his glass.

"Ah, it's just some monster that I heard frequented this place Underground. He's kinda a celebrity in here," he explains hastily. "His name is Sans. A real comedian."

You freeze. You're not entirely sure if you're ready to face him. Kendra, on the other hand, gives you another Undyne-esque grin. She looks over her shoulder, then back to you, waggling her eyebrows. 

"You snagged a real skele-babe, huh?" she teases.

"Snagged?" Nolan cuts in. "Woah what. You know Sans? Spill. Personal level? Intimate level? Holy shit--" he gasps, and his voice raises considerably-- "did you two bone?!"

You bury your face in your hands, and Kendra completely dissolves into laughter.

Shut him down. Shut him down right this very second. Stop this conversation.

"Not exactly?" is what tumbles out of your mouth.

Kendra grabs your shoulder to steady herself. "You've dug your grave," she tells you. "Now you have to tell him."

"You do it, quietly," you plead. You can feel your face heating up again at the thought of Sans being in the room. Of course something like this would happen to you. 

She leans into Nolan's ear. As she speaks, his grin grows again. She moves away, and there's a glint in his eyes that you don't trust.

"Hey, Sans! C'mere!" he yells.

You take in the rest of your drink and flag Grillby down. You hear yourself requesting something a little stronger.

"Now you're being an asshole," you grumble. 

"hey, uh, bud. can't say i remember your name."

You don't look in Sans' direction, but you can feel him. He's so close. Maybe he hasn't noticed you. Grillby drops a drink identical to your last one in front of you. You taste it. The burning is stronger. You figure there's more alcohol in it.

"Eh, not important," Nolan goes on. "Although, her name, black t-shirt? That's an important one. You know her?"

You feel Sans come around do your side to peek up at your face. You take another long drink. So much for not getting drunk.

"oh. hey, pal," he greets you.

He sits in the empty bar stool next to you and waves to Grillby, who places a bottle of ketchup in front of him.

"We were just discussing the pros and cons of knowing the local Nice Cream man. Right?" Kendra bats her lashes at you innocently.

Your breath catches, and you promptly finish your drink. Grillby replaces it as he walks by without you needing to ask.

"Slow down, champ," Nolan says. "Thought you weren't gonna get drunk."

"Thought you weren't gonna be an ass," you shoot back, though you can't help but smile at him.

"Okay, pros are free Nice Cream," she continues, ignoring the exchange.

"Another pro," Nolan adds, "is that the friendly neighborhood Nice Cream guy gets a show from his favorite customer." He winks and pushes you so that your shoulder brushes Sans'. 

There goes your dignity. Your face is more aflame than Grillby himself.

"Nolan, please," you groan, then chance a small glance at Sans. His face is the same dark navy it had been during the Nice Cream incident. 

"these, uh, they're your friends?" the skeleton asks quietly. 

"Kendra and Nolan," you say. 

The two of them quickly say their hellos before falling into a different conversation.

"They're fun," you conclude.

"i see that," he says.

"Cons," you continue after a moment of silence. The alcohol is giving you courage. "The Nice Cream man doesn't talk to me anymore."

You take another drink. Yup, you're definitely buzzed, borderline drunk. Not originally in the plan, but hey. It could be worse.

"you haven't texted me, either," Sans says.

"You've been giving Papyrus ridiculous reasons not to have me over," you argue. "He tells me everything."

"i can't tell him that i can't look you in the eye."

Oh. He's being serious. Too bad you don't have a filter anymore.

"Don't tell me you didn't enjoy it." You realize what you said and put your head on the bar. "Oh. That wasn't me. That was the..." You tap the top of you glass and peek up at him. "This."

"i can tell," he murmurs. "ok. look. i'm cuttin' ya off after... this." He points at your glass. "that's the last one, capiche? then you gotta go home."

You hum and nod, but don't lift your head. Kendra starts rubbing slow circles between your shoulder blades. 

"You never said you didn't enjoy it, bro," Nolan teases before he takes in the situation.

Sans shoots him a glare, then lifts your glass and swirls it a few times.

"you must not be feelin' _berry_ good," he says to you. "humans ain't really supposed to have more than one of these."

Now that he mentions it, you feel less drunk and more like there's painful television static right behind your eyes. Your head spins from it, but you're not nauseous.

"you've been here before, right?" Sans goes on, looking to your friends. "why'd you let her have more than one? this is--" he sniffs it and sets it down, away from you-- "this is really strong."

"Thought she'd be fine," Nolan says. "I always have more than one, and I'm always good." 

"I never have more than a few sips of mine since I'm the driver," Kendra says. "I wouldn't have known one way or the other."

Sans sighs. "ok. there goes my night. i'm takin' her home."

At this point, you're surprised that you can understand their words at all. Your head is hurting, and you know that there wasn't alcohol in your drink. That was something completely different. You've done your fair share of drinking before and you know what it's like."

"Good idea," Kendra says. "I don't normally trust her to strangers, though. If I find out there was any funny business, I'll kill you myself."

The skeleton's eye sockets go completely blank for a moment, and his grin falters. Still, he stands and waves at Grillby.

"put it on my tab," he says, then quickly adds, "gonna use the back door. gotta take a shortcut."

Grillby nods slowly, and Sans helps you off of your bar stool. You grab at the fluff of his hood to steady yourself when the world around you spins. 

"you good?" he asks you.

You nod, and he snakes his arm around your waist to help you stay balanced. He takes a few tentative steps to test your balance. You're good. You keep going. He leads you through the back door, and you breathe in the fresh air. 

"hold on to me," he says, pulling you into his side. 

The world falls apart around you. The static emerges from your head and gathers around the two of you. It hurts. It hurts and you want to scream bu your voice won't work. You can feel every atom in your being, every proton and neutron, and the only thing keeping you grounded is the feeling of Sans next to you. 

The darkness in front of your eyes shifts into the form of your apartment, and you crumple, landing on the floor in a heap.

"you ok?" Sans asks. Oh, good. He's still here.

"I can taste the atoms," is all you can manage to say. 

"shit, that might'a been a bad idea," he mumbles, crouching next to you. "can ya move?"

You try. You can only squint your eyes.

"No," you say slowly, trying to make sure that you understand your own voice.

"shit. uh, magic overload." He chuckles nervously. "those drinks had, uh, magic in 'em. you gotta build a tolerance before you can have more than one of those, like with alcohol." He huffs and puts a hand gently on your back. "bet you can't even understand me, huh?"

You can. You can understand him but you're so tired all of a sudden. All of the static is gone, and you're left with a dull ache in your head. You still can't move, and your voice is gone again. Sans lifts you and lays you on the couch. You're drifting off. You can hear his voice still as your eyes close.

"heh. i guess i broke the human."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbh this chapter was just meant to introduce some filler OCs that'll help with the drama  
> Also I purposely left Kendra's design open to interpretation, because I have two very different, totally vivid ideas for what she looks like. (One being kind of like Rachel Amber from Life is Strange, and the other being this beautiful black GODDESS. I think it's the second one tbh).  
> Hey so I do requests and Sans POVs and the first one has been posted! You can find those in the second part of this series!  
> Come talk to me at my [tumblr](meekomyachi.tumblr.com)  
> 


	5. Madre Compadre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sans is accused of doing the do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Post regarding character heights, for reference](http://meekosartdump.tumblr.com/post/146464917831/what-are-your-head-canons-for-everyones-height-in)

This is the worst hangover of your life.

No, it's not a hangover. It's worse. Your head is pounding and you're super ready to not have to deal with anything today. Worst of all, you can feel the dull ache left behind by the television static that sat behind your eyes, and it makes it hurt to focus on anything. It's Sunday, though, so you can stay in bed and--

How did you get in bed?

You check your clothing in a panic, seeing as last night is a blank, black hole in your memory. Thankfully, nothing is missing except your boots, which are placed neatly next to your bed. You decide to sit up and stretch, and at least get some water in your system before you start trying to remember what happened last night.

On your way to the kitchen, you glance over at your couch. There's no Kendra sleeping on it, so you figure she wasn't the one to take you home. She would still be there, asleep, or she would have woken you up by now, doting on you like a worried mother. She's not there, but there's a note on the coffee table next to where someone has set your phone to charge. Maybe she did bring you home, but had to leave for work? She works Sundays sometimes. The handwriting is nothing like hers (or Nolan's, for that matter), and is messy and almost illegible. The good thing about working with third graders, however, is that you've gained the ability to read even the worst handwriting with some sort of ease.

_"not sure how much you remember about last night, but i'll fill you in on what happened: those drinks at grillby's have magic in them. when you asked for something stronger, he thought you meant more magic. humans shouldn't have more than one of those drinks at a regular intensity. you had three, two of them extra strong."_

You grimace, but keep reading.

_"when i got you home, i put you on the couch since you couldn't move. that was my fault. i waited until you fell asleep and then put you in your room. make sure you drink some water and check your voicemail._

_-sans"_

Sans?

A few vague pieces of last night start to put themselves together in the blank space. Nolan was embarrassing you, Kendra was laughing, you were generally having a normal night out, but then the television static hit you behind the eyes. Sans helped you up and took you outside. The static became everything, and suddenly, you were home.

Like you teleported or something.

You wander into the kitchen, leaving the note on the coffee table, and fill a large glass with water from the tap. Neo twists around your ankles, but his food bowl is full. You figure Sans must have fed him before he left, whenever that was. You settle yourself back on the couch, taking sips of water, and unplug your phone. Twenty-five voicemails. Ouch.

You keep a tally of who left how many on the back of Sans' note. Nolan and Kendra left four apiece ("If he did anything weird, tell me! I'll kill him!"). You have a total of sixteen from Papyrus ("HUMAN, SANS TOLD ME YOU GOT SICK AT GRILLBY'S! THIS IS WHY I TELL HIM NOT TO GO THERE! NOT ONLY IS IT GREASY, BUT..."). You're bored and tired by the time you get to the last one, and your glass is nearly empty. You absently stroke the back of Neo's neck while you tap into the last message.

It's your mom.

_"Hey, sweetie, it's mom. I'm in town today -- surprise! I'll be at your place around noon, okay? It's been way too long! Love you."_

You look at the time on your screen. Eleven fifty. Your mom is going to be there in ten minutes and you're still a disheavled mess. You stand much quicker than you thought you would be able to and throw yourself into the shower to at least wash your hair and rinse off. You get out, throw on a casual floral dress, and check the time. Two more minutes. You straighten out your hair and put yourself in the living room, as if you've been ready for an hour.

Right on time, there's a knock on your door.

You yank the door open a little too quickly, revealing your mother. She's a small woman, with kind eyes and an impeccable fashion sense. She smiles and opens her arms, wrapping you in the kind of hug that only a loving mother can give. It makes you feel safe. And suspicious.

"You're not normally so huggy," you say when you pull away. "That was a whole thirty seconds."

"I haven't seen you in a long time," she says defensively. "I missed my daughter!"

"Missed you too, Mom." You step aside so she can come in.

Just like any of your other guests, your mom stoops down to pet Neo, who is sniffing at her shoes inquisitively. He looks up at her with his mouth partway open (a gesture you lovingly call "stinky face") and trots away into the kitchen.

"Don't let him fool you, he's been fed," you warn your mother as she moves to follow the cat. She laughs a short, warm laugh, and settles on your couch instead.

You move into the kitchen to set up the coffee pot, and you don't think much of when your mom comes to lean in the doorway. You look to her, and she holds up the note from Sans.

"Who is Sans?" she asks, one eyebrow raised, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

"Jesus Christ, Mom, we're not starting this right now," you sigh.

"Is he your boyfriend? I need to know who's bringing my drunken baby home at night."

"Mom, he-- no. He's not my boyfriend," you say, tapping the counter impatiently as you watch the coffee maker brew at the slowest rate possible.

"Then what is he to you? You can't just let strange men bring you home."

" _Mom_ ,” you warn. “He’s a friend. You know the kid that I work with at the school? He’s one of their guardians.”

She nods slowly. “Okay, okay, but I still have to meet him. And this...” She looks at the back of the sheet. “This Papyrus, as well, considering he’s left you sixteen voicemails.”

“It’s a good thing they’re brothers, then,” you tell her. “Seriously, it’s not that big of a deal. They’re friends of mine, that's it. You didn’t demand to meet Kendra or Nolan when you found out about them.”

“Because I’m not worried about them trying anything weird with you while you’re passed out.”

Shit. She’s serious now, and she’s using her forceful mom voice, which is much like the one that Toriel uses on Asgore. You feel yourself freeze, staring at her like a deer caught in headlights, and slowly let out the breath you didn’t know you’ve been holding.

“Okay, fine. I’ll call Sans, okay?”

She nods approvingly, and you move back into the living room to retrieve your phone from the coffee table. You tap out a quick “Everything is okay” message to send off to Nolan and Kendra, then dial Sans’ number. You hold your breath while it rings.

“morning,” is what you hear. He sounds half asleep.

“Hey,” you say. “Thanks for bringing me home last night.”

“mmm.”

“How did you get me back so fast, anyways?”

He yawns. “tell ya later.”

“Okay.” You suck in a breath and look at your mom, who is still standing impatiently in the doorway. “So, uh, my mom is in town.”

“cool.”

“And she saw the note you left and she thinks you’re my boyfriend.”

Silence. Sans breaks it after a moment with a chuckle, mumbling something about how weird humans are. “i’m assuming she wants to meet me, then?”

“And your brother,” you say.

“paps wanted to come see ya anyways,” he tells you. “he’ll be excited. you at home?”

“Sure am,” you tell him.

“alright, i guess we’ll be over soon,” he says.

He hangs up, and you look to your mom with a glare. She stares at you innocently.

“That ring,” she says, grabbing your right hand. “That’s cool. Where did you get it? You don’t normally wear stuff like this.”

“It was a gift,” you tell her.

The coffee maker beeps, signaling that it’s finished doing its thing. You rush into the kitchen and pour a cup for yourself and your mother. She accepts it gratefully, and the two of you sit on the couch and catch up. Your dad (a lawyer) has been working very hard lately on a lot of cases -- which, of course, she can’t tell you about -- and regrets not being able to come out for the surprise visit. You tell her that you understand. They live on the other side of town, and Mt. Ebott is definitely a much bigger city than most people would think, especially with traffic always being atrocious in the center.

You hear the door creak open, and you turn quickly. There’s Sans and Papyrus, both looking a little nervous. Your mom turns and stares as well.

“hey. uh. when is a door not a door?” Sans asks sheepishly, offering you a smile.

“When?” You stand and move to meet them.

“when it’s _ajar._ ” He scuffs the floor with his slipper. "you, uh, really shouldn't leave it open like that, is what i'm sayin'."

You snort at this and motion for them to come in. You take a second to notice Sans’ actual height. You haven’t been right next to him without sitting down, so you never noticed that he’s actually a bit taller than you thought, maybe even an inch or two taller than you. Papyrus, on the other hand, is easily six feet tall, which is still quite a bit taller than you.

“HELLO, HUMAN,” the tall skeleton says in what sounds like a loud inside voice. “THANK YOU FOR INVITING US OVER. I AM GLAD TO SEE YOU’RE FEELING BETTER.”

“Yeah, much better,” you affirm. “Coffee?”

“nah, we’re good,” Sans says.

“Holy shit,” your mom breathes. This catches your attention. She doesn’t swear often. She stands and takes your right hand again. “They’re skeletons.”

“...Yeah?” you mumble. “I didn’t think it mattered if they were human or monsters? You wanted to meet them.”

“Sweetie, your ring. You said it was a gift. Which one of them is Sans?” You point him out, and your mother gives him a hard glare before turning back to you. “It’s a skeleton hand! On your finger! Is this how monsters lay claim to things?! You said he was only a friend!”

Silence.

The silence drags on for a while, and you stare at your mother incredulously.

“ _Moooom,_ " you whine after a moment. "No, no no no. Look, okay? I said it was a gift, yeah, but not from him. It was Kendra. She thought it would be funny _because_ he's a skeleton."

"what ring?" Sans asks. You hold your hand out to him, feeling a blush creep over your face. He looks away, his own blush lighting up his cheek bones. "why did she think it would be funny?"

"Because of, um, field day," you offer quietly.

Papyrus shifts his weight nervously and smiles at you. You turn your attention to him.

"UM, HUMAN," he says slowly, still quietly for him. "IF YOU AND MY BROTHER ARE... DATING," He hovers over the word dating for a moment, as if testing it, "THEN I WOULD LIKE TO GIVE YOU MY BLESSING. I HEAR THAT IT IS SOMETHING THAT HUMANS LIKE TO RECEIVE FROM THEIR DATE FRIEND'S FAMILY."

You smile sweetly at him, but shake your head. "Sans and I aren't dating, Paps, but I appreciate that. My mom is just being silly and making jokes, right, Mom?"

Your mom sways in place for a moment, but gathers her composure and smiled brightly. "Right! I was just confused, is all, sweetie." She holds a hand out to Sans. "I'm sorry, that was rude of me to assume. I'm _____'s mother. It's nice to meet you."

"uh, same," Sans says quietly, shaking her hand and retracting his quickly. Papyrus takes his turn in the introductions, and you go back to drinking your coffee. It's getting cold.

"So, you met my friends," you say. "Anyone else you need to meet?"

You watch Sans drop himself onto your couch and sink into the cushion. You're a little jealous of how comfortable the skeleton can make himself, and how easily.

"I'd like to meet whoever you've been spending your time with," she says. "You may be an adult, but I still have to make sure my baby is safe."

She wraps her arms around you and hugs you tightly. You let yourself go limp and whine something unintelligible. You were kidding about her meeting anyone else.

"wanna go to tori's? everyone's supposed to be there," Sans offers.

"THAT IS A WONDERFUL IDEA," Papyrus agrees. "WE WILL GO TO TORIEL'S HOUSE AND YOUR MOTHER CAN MEET EVERYONE AND MAYBE GET ALONG WITH THEM REALLY WELL."

"Maybe you should call her to make sure it's okay, Paps," you suggest, and the tall skeleton nods vigerously. He steps into the kitchen to make the call. "I have to go get ready if we're going." You move into the bathroom to swipe on some mascara and call it good. Thankfully, you don't look too much like shit.

"I didn't want to say anything in front of Papyrus, since he seems like a sweet boy," your hear your mom say ominously, quietly. Maybe it was a bad idea to leave her alone with Sans. "But I need to know. Nothing happened between you and my daughter last night while she was inebriated, right?"

"nothin'," Sans replies. "look, she's pretty, yeah, but i'm not that kind of skeleton." You can almost feel the tension in the air between the two of them, but instead of focusing on that, you find yourself focusing on the fact that Sans just called you pretty. Your heart lurches, and you will it to knock it off.

Your mother sighs. "Okay. I'll take your word for it. Just know that you're not just getting this treatment because you're a monster. I would act the same towards anyone who could have gotten fresh with my daughter."

You burst into laughter. The tension in the air drops immediately.

"Sweetie?" your mom calls tentatively.

You take a deep, shaky breath, then step out to where they can see you. You point at your mom, cover your mouth, and take another deep breath.

"Okay, that was the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard you say," you tell her. "I'm the one who should have been worried about that, and I wasn't. Not really. I woke up, was like 'shit how did I get in bed', and then figured that since all of my clothes were still on, everything was fine."

You mom stares at you and sighs. Sans looks startled and is starting to flush a light blue again. Still, you disregard the hole you're digging for yourself and continue.

"It's like Sans said," you say. "He's not that kind of skeleton. I felt better when I remembered that he was the one that brought me home. I'm fine. He's not like that."

"You're rambling about nothing, dear," your mom tells you, obviously a bit embarrassed.

"SANS ISN'T LIKE WHAT?" Papyrus cuts in, emerging from the kitchen. "DID SOMETHING BAD HAPPEN?"

"No, Paps," you assure him immediately. Most of your friendship has revolved around you learning when Papyrus needs to be comforted and reassured that everything is still perfect. "Nothing bad. I was just saying that Sans isn't the kind of guy to leave me at the bar when I wasn't feeling good. We were thanking him for bringing me home."

In a weird, convoluted way, you _were_ thanking him. You eye Sans, who clears his (nonexistant) throat and smiles up at his brother.

"s'right, bro. nothin's wrong," he says.

Your mom shifts uncomfortably. "So, what did this Toriel say?" she asks to change the subject.

"AH YES! TORIEL SAID THAT SHE WOULD LOVE TO MEET YOU AND HAVE US OVER FOR THE GATHERING TODAY," he says excitedly. "WE WILL HAVE TO LEAVE NOW SO THAT YOU WILL BE ABLE TO MEET ALPHYS."

You make a face, but then place where you've heard the name before. "That's Undyne's girlfriend, right?"

"YES. WE MUST LEAVE NOW."

Papyrus half-drags Sans off of the couch and through the door. You look at your mom and smile. The two of you leave, making sure to lock your door tightly, and head down into the parking structure.

"HUMAN, WE WILL BE TAKING MY VERY COOL CAR," Papyrus announces. You knew that was coming. "MAYBE THEN YOUR MOTHER WILL BE IMPRESSED WITH US. SANS SAYS SHE CAN SIT IN THE FRONT SEAT."

Sans looks at you and shrugs.

"If that's okay with you," you say to your mom. She nods and smiles widely.

Papyrus leads you from the parking structure and takes you to a parking meter that he's left his car at after briefly explaining that your mom was using the other reserved spot for your apartment. You shake your head and climb into the back seat, giving your mom a reassuring smile. She takes the front seat, and Sans slouches lazily into the back with you.

The drive to Toriel's is just as quick and quiet as the last time you went. Papyrus seems to be holding in all conversation topics so that he doesn't exhaust any of them before you get there. He turns the radio to a pop station and turns it up a little bit to fill the silence. Before you know it, you're pulling up by the curb in front of Toriel's house.

You get out of the car and gesture for your mom to follow. She looks nervous, to say the least. You rub between her shoulders absently as you walk up to the front door. As with the last time, Papyrus just opens the door and walks right in. Sans follows and gives a short nod that you know is meant to be reassuring.

Your mom needs a lot of reassuring today, though you're not sure why she's so nervous. The woman is a social butterfly.

"Welcome!" Asgore's booming voice cuts through your thoughts. He immediately sweeps you into a hug, then drops you and approaches your mother. "Is this your mother? She must be! I am Asgore. It is a pleasure to meet you."

"You didn't tell me you were friends with the monster monarchy," your mom says giving you a startled glance. You shrug and offer a sheepish smile. She turns back to Asgore with a smile. "The pleasure is all mine."

He shakes hands with her, and she seems just as startled by his giant paws as you were the first time you met him.

"Can I interest you in some tea?" he asks her, placing a paw gently on her back and leading her into the kitchen. She nods slowly and follows him, suddenly a bit less tense.

"can't tell if she's trying not to be openly racist, or if she's genuinely scared," Sans says, a bit too close to your ear for comfort. You yelp and jump away from him.

"Don't sneak up on me," you scold. "And she's not racist. I don't know what's wrong."

"HUMAN! FRISK AND FLOWEY AND UNDYNE AND ALPHYS ARE IN HERE," Papyrus yells from the living room.

You follow his voice, Sans right behind you, and are promptly assaulted with a third grade hug. You narrow your eyes at Frisk as they nuzzle into your stomach. You're honestly unsure of why they do that, but they seem to enjoy it, and it's not uncomfortable. The child bounds away and holds up Flowey, who glares at you.

"Howdy," he says with malice.

"Hello, little flower," you say sweetly. "I see you got repotted."

His pot is now pink and covered in glitter, but his name is still painted in cursive across the top rim. His expression turns darker. Frisk flicks one of his petals before he can say anything else.

"HEY, PUNK!" Undyne bellows. She stands and drags you to the couch, where there is a small yellow... lizard? Dinosaur? Needless to say, you recognize her from the photos that Undyne showed you as Alphys. "This is my girlfriend, Alphys. It's about damn time I got you two in the same place!"

" _I_ GOT THE HUMAN HERE, ACTUALLY," Papyrus says, raising a finger and sweating nervously.

"And _I_ got the coolest idea for a puzzle," Undyne says tauntingly. "_____, go make friendly with my lady. I've got some stuff to tell Paps."

You sit on the couch, on the opposite end from Alphys, and smile over. "Hello there."

She looks at you with a nervous smile, but says nothing. She soon looks back down at her hands. You feel concern growing in your chest. Did you do something wrong?

No, you don't think that you did. Looking at her, you see a lot of yourself, at least the you from before Nolan and Kendra came into the picture. She's nervous and shy and scared of saying the wrong thing. You wonder how many humans she actually comes into contact with.

"You don't need to be scared to talk to me," you say carefully. She looks up at you, an almost embarrassed expression etched across her face. "My name is _____."

Sans stands nearby, and Alphys seems to relax a little when she sees him. He nods at her, but she still remains silent.

"Undyne says that you're into anime?" you prompt. That catches her attention. "Do you have a favorite?"

"UM, YES," she says, obviously losing control of her volume for a second. She clamps a hand over her mouth and blushes. "I-I mean, yes, I h-have a favorite..."

You smile at her. "What is it? I may have seen it."

"M-Mew Mew Kissy Cutie," she says quietly.

You think for a moment. Nope, you've never seen that one. From the sound of it, it must be a magical girl with cat ears as the main protagonist. The thought vaguely reminds you of Tokyo Mew Mew.

"Can't say I've seen that one," you say. "I'd like to sometime, though. The name makes me think of Tokyo Mew Mew. You seen that one?"

She shakes her head, but she looks a little more comfortable. "N-no, I haven't," she says. "Our s-selection in the U-Underground was pretty, uh, l-limited."

You nod slowly. "Must have been, huh?"

"W-we all get together sometimes to w-watch anime," she tells you, suddenly excited. "M-maybe, if y-you wanted... Y-you could come with next time? A-and I can show you Mew Mew Kissy Cutie, a-and you could show us Tokyo Mew Mew..."

Sans stiffens, but it doesn't feel like a bad reaction. Alphys' words have also gained Undyne's attention.

"Dude, YES," Undyne says. "That would be-- Dude, that would be so fucking awesome!"

"Language!" you hear Toriel call from the other room, tiredly, like she's been doing it for a while.

Undyne doesn't look apologetic in the slightest, and she continues to grin at you. "It's at our place, like, tomorrow. You're more than welcome to come. In fact, Sans, you _have_ to bring her."

"YES BROTHER, WE MUST BRING HER," Papyrus agrees.

"Tomorrow's Monday," you say. "I won't be getting off of work until closer to five or six in the afternoon."

"We don't start until, like, seven usually," Undyne tells you. "Because that gives everyone time to get off of work."

"W-we'd love you to come," Alphys concludes.

You look to Sans, who grins and shrugs.

Ah, that's right. Your mother is here, too. You turn in your seat to look over at her. She's sitting at the table, chatting with Asgore and drinking tea. She seems happy, contented. She gives you a small wave before jumping back into the conversation. Relief washes over you.

A shrill beeping gathers your attention, though. Alphys stands quickly.

"O-oh, uh, I-I have to go now," she says. "I-I'm glad that we could m-meet. I-I'll see you tomorrow!"

She bolts from the house without much more than a quick peck on Undyne's cheek. Sans settles onto the couch, occupying the space that Alphys had just a moment ago.

"official science business, probably," he tells you, humor lining his voice. You smile at him.

Undyne's phone rings almost immediately, and you half listen to her while you watch Frisk put stickers on Flowey's pot.

"Hey, babe, is something wrong?.... Mettaton called? Turn on the news...? Okay..." She raises an eyebrow and motions for Sans to hand her the remote. She flicks on the TV and changes it to Mt. Ebott's number one news station (also the only news station in the area that anyone could really trust).

On the screen is a ridiculously familiar face. Too familiar. It hurts to see him on the news. You tune in to the newscaster's voice.

_"...a lawyer in Mt. Ebott's top law firm, has been defending those humans participating in inflicting harm and other forms of brutality on monsters. He has successfully defended ten murder cases by claiming self defense, six abuse cases, and..."_

You tune it out. Your heart is pounding out of your chest, and you turn slowly to your mother. Oh yes, she sees this. His name is etched across the screen. Your mother looks terrified.

His voice cuts through; the news is showing footage of an interview with him after a trial.

_"I know that change is inevitable, yes, but monsters and humans are not meant to coexist. There is a reason that we were able to force them Underground so long ago, and it is our duty as the human race to make sure that they go back to where they belong. There is one thing that I know for certain: monsters do not belong on the surface. They never have, and they never will."_

Your heart stops. The room is still, tense, quiet, all except for Frisk, who is still happily decorating Flowey's pot with their back turned to the television. Even Flowey looks mortified.

Nobody says anything. Your mother has her hand over her mouth. You gather all of your courage.

"Mom?" you say, shakily, quietly. It's been a long time since you've been this pissed. "Tell me why my father is trying to force monsters back Underground."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh shIT  
> True story: I barge into my own home and yell "I HAVE RETURNED, MY MADRE COMPADRE" at my mom. Every. Single. Time. She usually just sighs and goes back to playing WoW.  
> Another true story: Every time I tell my mom I'm working on fanfiction, she tells me to go be trash somewhere where she doesn't have to look at me. My mom is the best.  
> Come yell at me on my [tumblr](http://www.meekomyachi.tumblr.com)!


	6. Mew Mew Kissy Cutie 2 is Neither Kissy nor Cutie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Trash. Zero stars.

All eyes are on your mother, but the only one that's outwardly angry is you. Toriel places a gentle paw on your mother's shoulder and gives her a nod of encouragement.

"It is okay to confide in us," she says quietly. "We only wish to know what is going on. Nothing bad will come of us knowing."

Your mom takes a deep breath. "I didn't know they were murder cases. I didn't know it was anything that bad..."

You move and sit across from her at the table. Sans sticks close to your side, some kind of concern etched across his face.

"But you knew that he was defending abuse against monsters?" you push. Your tone makes your mother wince.

"Sweetie, I... It isn't my fault. Don't try to act like it is."

"Is that why you were acting so weird when you first met everyone?" you go on, ignoring her. "What did dad say he'd do? Did he threaten you?"

Oh, there it is. You've always been a little afraid of your dad. He's so serious, and you've never shared a tender moment with him aside from the occasional pat on the head when you received an A on a test. He's always been a busy man, constantly working on cases and forcing his way to the top of the law firm. You have to admit, you figured it was only a matter of time before the power he holds started to get to his head. Monsters being on the surface for almost four months must have been the push over the edge.

"Your father would never threaten me. He would never threaten anyone," your mom whispers, as if she's in denial that you just said what you did.

"He literally just threatened _every monster in the world_!" you argue. "He's defending people that are actively threatening and hurting them! Don't tell me he's harmless."

She sucks in a breath, but before she can continue the argument, Toriel clears her throat.

"Arguing among yourselves will not help the matter at all," she says. "While the idea of your father posing a threat to our peace is unsettling, it is not at all something that Asgore and I were not prepared for. If things start to get out of hand, it will be taken care of."

"I'm more worried about what he'd do if he found out that you've been hanging out with monsters," Undyne says, placing a cool hand on your shoulder. "I mean, you're his daughter. It'd be easy to target you."

"He would never--" your mother starts, but Undyne shoots her a look that silences her.

"My point is," she goes on, "that maybe we should keep a closer eye on you?"

"I don't need to be protected," you tell her. "I doubt my dad would actually try to hurt me."

"A reasonable doubt," Toriel says softly. "Though it would not be only you that we are protecting by keeping you under a careful watch."

You look up at her, her words making you realize exactly how dangerous this was.

"Because I'm so close to Frisk," you say, almost in a whisper. You lower your head so your forehead touches the table. "Oh my god. I didn't -- I wasn't thinking. They're already weird about you guys. If Dad really wanted to fuck things up, he could go with the school, make me look incompetent. That would invalidate my report that says Frisk is in a safe place." Undyne rubs slow circles between your shoulderblades. You can't bear to look up at anyone. "I didn't even think about that," you go on. "They could get taken away. Or worse."

"Which is why we'll keep an eye on things," Undyne concludes. "We'll have to keep us being monsters a secret from your dad, especially if he already knows about your job." You look up to see her gazing at your mother, who just nods slowly.

"All of this, for a child?" she murmurs.

Toriel stiffens, tightening her grip on your mother's shoulder. "Frisk is not just a child," she says hotly. "They are _my_ child, and as a mother, you should know what it is like to want to protect your child from any harm."

Your mother lets out a short, nervous laugh. "You're right," she says. "I'd do anything to keep mine safe. I demanded to meet all of you, just to make sure nothing was wrong."

"Exactly." Toriel sighs and moves away from your mother, scooping a confused Frisk into her arms. "We all care deeply for Frisk, do we not? If nothing else, this poses a threat to them and their education. We must be careful about who is seen at the school picking them up. I am afraid I cannot permit anyone but Sans, Asgore, and myself to do it."

Undyne's face falls, but she nods understandingly. Papyrus remains uncharacteristically silent.

"And I will trust that you will not speak of any of this to your husband," goat mom finishes, throwing another curt glance at your mother.

She just nods again.

"Papyrus, can you take us back to my apartment? I'm sure my mom wants to get home and get some sleep," you say quietly. Papyrus nods, and you look to Toriel. "I'm sorry all of this blew up here..."

"It is not your fault," she says. "I prefer that we know what kind of trouble we may be facing, even if it sounds a bit far fetched right now. I am actually grateful that this has come to our attention. Undyne, tell Alphys to pass my thanks to Mettaton."

Undyne nods. You feel Papyrus lightly tap your shoulder.

"we're gonna get going," Sans says, as if he can read his brother's discomfort without so much as a glance in his direction. "c'mon."

Frisk wriggles away from Toriel and throws themself on you when they realize that you're getting ready to leave (which doesn't take long). They look up at you and sign, a concerned look on their face.

* _"What's going on? Why is everyone so upset?"_

You suck in a breath and think for a moment. Toriel gives you a look that says not to tell Frisk anything, so you kneel and sign out a careful response.

_"Everything is fine. I'll see you in the morning."_

The child nods, but raises an eyebrow. They don't believe you. They go back to Toriel and sit on her lap as you say your goodbyes. When you move for the door, Undyne stops you.

"Don't forget about anime night tomorrow," she says, smiling.

"I won't," you say. You lead your mom from the house.

Sans gestures for her to take the front seat. The car ride back to your apartment is just as silent as the one that took you to Toriel's, except that this silence is tense. Papyrus seems anxious, and when you get into the parking structure, he wastes no time saying goodbye and urging Sans to get into the front seat. Papyrus gives you a nervous smile and waves quickly, pulling away from the complex as fast as he can.

You figure he doesn't do well with tension.

Either that, or your anger is still radiating off of you, and it makes him uncomfortable.

You make a mental note to text him to tell him that everything is okay.

You turn to your mom as she moves to get into her own car. "Hey," you say quietly. "I'm not mad at you. I blew up at you and I shouldn't have. I'm sorry about that."

She exhales and smiles. "It's alright, dear. I'm just as livid with your father as you are."

"Oh, I'm sure I'm worse," you argue with a half hearted laugh. "Anyways, I just didn't want you to leave on a bad note."

She nods and lets her hand rest on the handle to the car's door. "I won't mention anything about Frisk or your friends. If I hear anything that may affect you guys, though... I'll be sure to pass it on as soon as I can."

You pull her into an hug and murmur your thanks. Your mom isn't a bad person. No, she's kind hearted and good, but she also would do anything to make sure that no one is badmouthing her family. You can only imagine the toll it must have on her for her to find out that her husband is working so hard at being openly racist. She climbs into her car and waves as she pulls away.

You head upstairs and melt into your couch, exhausted after only a few hours of activity. You look at the clock. It looks like the rest of the afternoon is going to be spent watching whatever show you decide to binge watch.

* * *

 

You stare at yourself in the mirror, examining the turquoise dress you wore to work. You really don't have it in you to change, but you also wonder if it's too dressed up for watching anime with your new friends. Every time you watched anime with Kendra, she ended up dragging you out into the public, so you're a bit skeptical about whether or not these new monster friends will do the same thing.

You mostly own skirts and dresses just because it's easier for work. You can't go wrong with a tasteful dress.

Eventually you shrug and sling your purse over your shoulder. Papyrus would be there soon (he took Undyne's word of Sans having to bring you very seriously, and texted you last night with his offer to escort you to Alphys and Undyne's place, which you accepted; you've never been there before). You eye the skeleton ring on your finger and sigh. You haven't really taken it off since you got it, aside from washing your hands or taking a shower. It's sort of worked its way into becoming the staple of most of your outfits. Even some of the kids at school thought it was cool. You shake your head and check yourself in the mirror again. You look good enough, and you're comfortable. You doubt you'll be going out anyhow.

You make sure that the DVD set for Tokyo Mew Mew is in your purse (courtesy of Kendra), then sit patiently on the couch.

Time ticks by slowly, and you grow impatient much quicker than you would like. Neo is curled up on your lap asleep by the time you look at the clock. It's after seven. The skeleton brothers are way late, and you start to worry. Papyrus is never late.

A series of rapid knocks brings you out of your worrying. You push Neo from your lap gently and open the front door.

"I APOLOGIZE FOR OUR LATENESS, HUMAN," Papyrus shrieks immediately. He's got on another one of his improved crop tops and a pair of booty shorts. "THIS LAZYBONES HERE WOULD NOT GET OUT OF BED."

You look at Sans, who offers a non-committal shrug. Honestly, you're a little jealous that he has the luxury to go back to bed after picking Frisk up from school.

"It's okay, Pap," you tell him.

"IT IS NOT. WE MUST LEAVE IMMEDIATELY," he urges. "UNDYNE HATES WHEN WE'RE LATE."

"I'm ready," you say.

Papyrus grabs Sans by the hood and drags him away from your apartment and towards the elevator, where he lets him go only when he promises to walk at a normal pace.

When the doors open into the lobby, Sans chooses a pace normal for a snail. You hold in your laughter at how irritated Papyrus is getting. Sans gives you a slow wink when he notices that you think this is hilarious.

It kind of is.

It takes five minutes for Sans to walk the twenty feet from the elevator to the side door that opens into the parking structure. Five full minutes of Papyrus slowly getting more worked up. At least he has the good graces to not yell inside the building.

No, he waits until you're in the parking structure.

"SANS!" he groans. "YOU SAID YOU WOULD WALK AT A NORMAL PACE."

"you never said what the pace had to be normal _for_ ," Sans replies.

You snicker.

Papyrus makes an angry noise that reminds you vaguely of a pterodactyl and resumes dragging the shorter skeleton to the car. He all but throws him into the back seat before opening the passenger door for you. You slip into the seat, casting a glance at Sans through the side mirror. The taller brother gets into the driver's seat and gets onto the road as quickly as possible, muttering about how much trouble Sans would be in without a cool guy like Papyrus taking care of him.

You find yourself shooting Sans more than one glance through the side mirror on the way there, though the drive isn't very long at all. Eventually, Sans catches you, giving you another wink and a lazy grin that makes your heart hurt a little.

Stop that, heart.

Undyne and Alphys live a little deeper into college town than you do, in one of the nice town houses reserved for the college's faculty. You're a little nervous to enter, but just like with Toriel's house, Papyrus just walks right in.

"SANS TOOK FOREVER," he announces immediately, throwing himself onto the couch next to Undyne.

Undyne jumps up and leaps over the back of the couch, rushing up to get in your face as fast as she can. Her greetings are still a bit scary for you, if you're honest.

"Welcome," she growls before scooping you into a hug. She completely lifts you off of the ground.

"U-um, sweetie, maybe p-put her down?" Alphys suggests helpfully from the couch.

Undyne stiffens and sets you down gently. You straighten out your skirt and grin.

"Thanks for inviting me," you say.

"Y-you and Sans c-can take that," Alphys tells you, pointing at the love seat.

Sans shrugs and drops himself on it, sinking in immediately. Again, you find yourself jealous of how easily he can make himself comfortable. You shoot Undyne a glare (she's giving you a shit eating grin that has her intentions written all over it) and dig your DVD set from your purse.

"I didn't forget it," you tell Alphys, handing it to her. "It's the complete series. My friend said she doesn't want it back until you finish it."

"O-oh! T-that's so n-nice of her... Thank you." She sets it in her lap while you sit next to Sans. "M-Mew Mew is on the coffee table for you."

"ALL RIGHT, WE'RE STARTING WITH THIS ONE," Undyne bellows. "It's gonna be _sooo_ good! It's got a badass princess in it!"

She settles back onto the couch with Alphys after putting a disc into their DVD player and turning off the lights. It's not hard to focus on the screen as you go through one episode, then two. Alphys promises to switch to Mew Mew Kissy Cutie eventually.

After a little while (and half of a season of anime), you find it hard to keep your attention on the screen. You've gone through a glass or two of red wine (courtesy of Undyne, who had the decency to grab one for you as well when Alphys asked for one), and you've watched Sans go through half a bottle of ketchup. You've watched Sans' face contort in ways that non-magical, human bones never would be able to in reaction to certain things on the screen. You've watched him get interested and lose that interest within seconds.

You've been watching Sans almost this whole time.

You pull your eyes away from him and force yourself to stare at the screen. When did you start paying more attention to him than you were to the screen? You were totally lost on what was going on. At least three new characters have been introduced since you last paid attention. You can't get back into it, feeling that you missed a major plot point.

You find your eyes drifting back to Sans.

You find yourself looking at how the light from the TV illuminated his bones in some places and cast dark shadows in others. You could see all of the tiny imperfections in the bone, whereas during the day, it looked smooth and flawless. You could see that his eye sockets were seriously hollow, without the dark film that you thought they might have had. His white pinpricks that you figured served as pupils just floated in the dark nothingness.

His white pinpricks shift over to you, and his cheekbones turn a light shade of blue. You know it's not just the TV illuminating them, though.

Another lazy grin crosses his face, and you can't tear your eyes away. If nothing else, you're mesmerized by how his eye sockets become half closed and lidded, and how he can make so many facial expressions without lips or skin that wrinkles or--

"you ok?" he whispers.

His grin falters. You must have been searching his face a little too long. You shake your head and look down at your hands. You're certain you're blushing as well.

"I'm fine," you whisper back, just as quiet. A quick glance to Undyne and Alphys shows that Sans is the only one that heard you.

When you look back at him, he's still looking at you, but with a faraway expression that he quickly snaps out of.

"Are _you_ okay?" you inquire.

He looks nervous for a moment before looking back to the screen, sinking back into the couch and putting his hands in his hoodie pockets.

"never better."

You make yourself watch the rest of the anime. It's closing in on midnight now, and Papyrus is already asleep. Sans stands and looks at you.

"we takin' you home?" he asks.

You shrug, then nod. How else would you get home? You hardly knew where you were. It would take too long to walk home from here.

"hey, we're gonna get him home," Sans says a bit louder, so Undyne and Alphys can hear. He moves over and prods at Papyrus with his foot. "bro, let's go."

"Thank you for having me over," you say again, smiling at them. "And for letting me borrow Mew Mew Kissy Cutie." You hold up the VHS collection (thankful that you kept your old player).

"N-no problem," Alphys says.

"Hey, next time, if you guys are gonna stare at each other the whole time, at least try to be discreet about it," Undyne scolds.

You must react the way she wanted, because she starts cackling, rousing Papyrus from his sleep. Sans glares at her, but that makes her cackle louder.

"Brother, you drive," the tall skeleton mumbles sleepily, fishing the keys from his pocket and handing them to Sans. "I'm too tired."

You've never heard Papyrus so quiet before. You give Undyne one last friendly glare and stoop down to hug Alphys before Sans gestures at the door.

"T-text me and let me k-know what y-you t-think!" Alphys calls after you nervously. You wave as Sans shuts the door behind you guys.

It's quiet, and warm enough to drive with the top of Papyrus' car down. The taller skeleton is in the back seat, snoring lightly, and Sans looks very unnatural with his focus on the road.

"you gonna tell me why you were starin' at me?" he asks you about halfway back to your apartment.

"I'm not even sure why," you say. "I guess I'm interested in how you're more expressive than a lot of humans that I know."

It's not a total lie, but you think it's best to leave out the fact that you just couldn't help it, that your heart was hurting and you knew why but you aren't ready to admit it to yourself. You're sure as hell not going to admit it to him, either.

"Why'd you stare back?" you ask.

"i wasn't."

"Liar. You were still looking at me when I looked away," you retort.

Sans is silent.

He stays silent until he pulls into your parking structure, where he turns in his seat to face you, one elbow propped on the steering wheel of the parked car.

"was just interested in how you're a lot more expressive than a lot of humans i know," he says, shrugging, repeating your reason from earlier.

You huff and move to get out of the car, turning your back on him.

"and you're not too hard to look at, either," he adds on quickly, almost silently.

You look back at him. He's looking away now, his face dusted in a light blue quickly turning navy. You know for a fact that your face is more red than it's ever been before. Instead of sputtering, you take a breath and let out a small laugh.

"I heard you when you told my mom that yesterday," you say teasingly. "But it's nice to hear you say it to my face."

He stares at you and grins, giving his own small chuckle. "yeah, i guess i did say that, didn't i?"

"You meant it?"

"yeah."

You beam at him, then get out of the car. "Well, thanks. You're pretty good looking too, for a bag of bones."

You wink and walk away, into the apartment building. You curl into your bed as soon as you change and feed Neo.

Oh god.

_Ba-dump._

You're not ready for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Again, thank you sosososo much for your support and love, it means the world to me! I can't tell you how many times I've burst out laughing or started seriously blushing because of your comments. You guys are funny and sweet and wonderful people, and I love you from the bottom of my sinful heart.  
> I track the tag "#fwtst" on tumblr (as well as tag everything related to the fic with it) so if you've ever thought of putting in your two cents with a post on tumblr, that's the way to get my attention! Or send me a link. Links work well, too.  
> Come bother me on [tumblr!](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)


	7. Silken Spaghetti Finely Aged in an Oaken Cask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Papyrus makes good on his promise to make you dinner, and you witness an 8-year-old tantrum.

You have this really bad habit of ignoring Sans when you think you've embarrassed yourself in front of him. However, the ugly truth rears its head in the form of realization that you can't avoid him forever.

It's Friday. School has just ended, and you're walking Frisk to the pickup loop like you normally do. As always, Frisk is holding your hand. Everything is normal. You're expecting either Asgore or Toriel, who have been picking Frisk up every day this week since Tuesday, but...

Sans.

He shifts his weight between his feet for a moment when he sees you, but turns his full attention to Frisk when they tackle him into a hug. Frisk gets excited to see anyone that picks them up. Or anyone that walks into the house. Or anyone that they know.

What a sweet kid.

You can't say that you're surprised to see Sans here; he and Papyrus do look after Frisk on the weekends (hence the extra bed in Papyrus' room). You're almost surprised at the amount of affection written on his face as he looks at the child, though. Definitely like an older brother.

You feel a smile creeping onto your face at the display. Frisk is rapidly signing about their day, and Sans is just nodding along. Occasionally, he'll glance up at you.

You're honestly not sure why you're still standing there.

Normally, Toriel or Asgore will at least say hello to you before leading Frisk away. Sans would too, but you get the feeling that's not going to happen this time.

Maybe teasing wasn't something he enjoyed?

He holds a hand up to Frisk, interrupting them. He looks up at you again, a nervous grin replacing the loving one he had shown Frisk.

"hey," he says.

"Hey," you breathe.

"you know, uh, paps wanted to come with," he tells you, "but since tori won't let him, i was asked to pass on a, uh, message to you."

You tilt your head. "Which would be?"

"paps, uh, formally extends his invitation to spaghetti night." Sans looks away. "which is, uh, every night? but he wants you there. tonight." He scuffs his slipper on the ground. "since it's friday, he figures you can't use work as an excuse."

You sigh. "I did promise him that I'd come over for dinner sometime," you say. "I can't say no to him. He's one of my best friends."

Sans seems to brighten up a little.

"What time should I be there?"

Frisk grabs your skirt and tugs on it, gaining your attention.

* _"Now!"_

You smile. _"I have to feed my cat,"_ you sign back. _"And change my clothes."_

* _"Sans thinks you look pretty in dresses though."_

Sans coughs. "that's enough, kiddo," he says. "uh, well, dinner is usually around six? so i guess just come over whenever. paps'll wanna watch a movie."

"Sounds like a plan," you say. "I'll be there sometime after work."

"ok." Sans takes hold of Frisk's hand and leads them away without so much as a wave in your direction. Frisk waves enough for the both of them, though.

You let go of a breath you forgot you were holding and shake your head. You still have a few quizzes to grade, and a lesson plan to help translate for Frisk. You head back into the school to get as much work done as possible.

* * *

 

Neo's food bowl filled? Check.

Changed into leggings and a way too big hoodie with a graphic t-shirt underneath? Check.

Everything seems fine. You're comfortable, you're okay, everything is fine. You're just going to have dinner with Sans and Papyrus and Frisk and you're going to have fun.

Why are you overthinking this so much?

You shake the negative thoughts from your head and look in the mirror one last time. You look like a college students, that's for damn sure. You slip on some comfortable, outdoor-appropriate slippers and call it good.

Now, just to work up the courage to head over there.

You take your purse and force yourself out of the apartment as quickly as you can. It's now or never. You get into your car and start the short drive to their apartment complex. You take your time getting to the elevator and heading up to their floor, and even more time getting ready to knock on the door.

There's shuffling on the other side. You gather your thoughts quickly in preparation for0- what you know is coming next.

"who's there?"

There it is.

"Theodore," you say, leaning towards the door a little.

"theodore who?"

"Theodore is locked. That's why I'm knocking."

Sans opens the door and looks at you with an expression of mixed horror and amusement.

"that was awful," he says.

"You're smiling," you say.

"you look, uh, different."

"I mean, it's not your first time seeing me in something other than a dress," you reason.

"right."

"SANS," Papyrus screeches from the other room. "LET THE HUMAN INTO OUR HOME SO THAT SHE CAN GET COMFORTABLE."

"right," Sans repeats, stepping aside. "come in."

You step into their familiar apartment and feel instantly at home. You can see Papyrus and Frisk in the kitchen. Papyrus turns to smile at you before going back to his cooking, but Frisk runs and throws their arms around your middle. You ruffle their hair and release them back into the kitchen. They give you a small thumbs up.

"WHY DON'T YOU TWO PUT ON A MOVIE? FRISK AND I WILL FINISH THE SPAGHETTI," Papyrus suggests helpfully.

You shrug and sit on the couch with your legs crossed. Sans grabs the TV remote and joins you, flicking to the Netflix option. You lean your head back onto the back of the couch and watch as he scrolls through a ton of movies before finally settling on Blades of Glory. You watch the first fifteen minutes or so before Frisk comes out and pushes Sans away from his end of the couch. He scoots so that he's in the middle, and Frisk takes over the far cushion.

You're given another thumbs up.

Sans stiffens, but starts to relax the more he pays attention to the movie. Last time you were this close to him while watching something, you spent the entire time staring at him. You try your very hardest not to do that this time.

"SPAGHETTI IS SERVED," Papyrus announces, walking in with a plate in each hand and one balanced on his head. He passes the three plates to those of you on the couch, then rushes back into the kitchen, only to return with a plate of his own.

He stands still for a moment, eyes flicking between you and Sans, then his gaze lingers on Frisk. Frisk stands and pushes on Sans again, forcing him over farther so that Papyrus can sit down. The child climbs into the tall skeleton's lap.

"WHAT ARE WE WATCHING?" he asks between bites.

"blades of glory," Sans replies quietly.

"It's a funny movie," you add.

Frisk nods vigorously, stuffing their mouth as full as they can with spaghetti. They look at you with noodles hanging from their mouth and grin.

You wrinkle your nose at them and smile, signing _"Gross"_. They just grin wider and turn back to their meal.

Throughout the movie, Sans cracks some jokes and occasionally covers Frisk's eyes. You find yourself joining in on the commentary and joking. Before you know it, the movie is well over, and the spaghetti has been gone for a while. You set your plate on the coffee table and stretch your arms over your head.

"Thank you for dinner," you say. "It was the greatest spaghetti I've ever eaten, Papyrus."

"I KNOW," the tall skeleton replies. He nudges Frisk off of his lap and stands to gather the dishes. "YOU'LL HAVE TO COME BACK AGAIN, AND I CAN MAKE YOU MORE OF MY WORLD FAMOUS SPAGHETTI."

"I'd love that." You stand and stretch again, this time standing on your tippy toes. "Until then, I should probably get home, huh? It's getting pretty late."

"yeah, sounds like a plan," Sans says dismissively, refusing to look at you. "see ya, kid."

His aloof demeanor makes you bristle, but you smile anyways. "Good night, guys."

You sign out your closing remark to Frisk, who immediately jumps in front of the door.

* _"You can't leave! You have to spend the night."_

You look to Sans. "Where did they get that idea?"

"what?"

"They want me to spend the night."

Sans stays silent for a moment. When he sucks in a breath to say something, Papyrus bounds out of the kitchen and snatches your hands into his grasp.

"THAT'S A WONDERFUL IDEA," he says. "HUMAN! IF YOU DO NOT MIND SLEEPING ON THE COUCH, WE COULD HAVE A SLEEPOVER! WE COULD PLAY GAMES AND WATCH MOVIES ALL NIGHT! AND YOU DO NOT HAVE WORK IN THE MORNING SO IT WOULD BE FINE. AND YOU COULD COME WITH US TO THE PARK WITH TORIEL TOMORROW!"

"uh, paps--"

"SANS, I WILL NOT HAVE YOU POOP ON MY PARTY." Papyrus shakes his head at his brother. "A SLEEPOVER IS MORE FUN WITH MORE FRIENDS. OBVIOUSLY. HOW COULD YOU NOT KNOW THAT."

"uh, right."

"I don't have to stay if you're not okay with it, Sans," you say.

Frisk runs over to Sans and signs out something with an angry expression on their face. Oh fun, an eight-year-old tantrum, or at least the beginnings of it. Sans heaves another sigh and turns to look at you.

"the kid'll shut up if you spend the night," he says. "and it'll make pap happy."

"I'd just have to go home and get some clothes," you say. "I won't be too long."

Frisk practically smacks Sans to get his attention before signing again. Sans stands.

"uh, i'll take ya," he says. "the kid insists." He approaches you slowly and looks up with a nervous expression. "uh, trust me really quick. i'm not doing anything weird. just hold on to me."

You stiffen as he snakes his arm around you waist, but you place a hand tentatively on his shoulder. He looks at you and gives you what must be meant as a reassuring grin before he focuses on something right in front of you. You can feel magic gathering around you in a sharp, concentrated cloud. When you blink, there's nothing. There's blank blackness. There's nothing but you and Sans and deafening silence. It only lasts a fraction of a second; as soon as the darkness encompasses you, it's completely gone, and you're in your apartment.

Shit, your head hurts.

You tighten your grip on his shoulder for a second and rub between your eyes.

"uh, shit, you ok?" Sans asks.

You nod and stand yourself upright. "Is that how you got me home so fast last time?"

"uh, yeah."

" _How?_ "

"remember when papyrus told you about how i can manipulate time and space?"

You think for a moment. If you concentrate really hard, you can recall Papyrus mentioning it during your first home visit, but you don't remember much of what he said. You were too busy focusing on Frisk's wall of art.

"He... mentioned it," you say.

"he explained how it all works," Sans says, his tone somewhere between exasperated and amused. "that's some pretty heavy stuff to just block out like that."

You hum, then remember your closeness. You release your hold on his hood, and he shifts away from you, letting his arm fall away from your waist with a mumbled apology.

"I'll, um, get my stuff together," you say, moving towards your bedroom. "Feel free to sit or whatever. I might be a minute."

You hear rather than see Sans drop himself on your couch as you walk into your bedroom. You look around briefly before deciding on something comfortable for tomorrow, especially if you're going to be going to the park with Frisk. You pick some jeans and a brightly colored shirt reading in bold black lettering "Coffee Before Talkee" and shove them into one of your many tote bags, along with your toothbrush and other necessities. You throw in extras of anything that could be considered undergarments for good measure, then you're back in the living room.

To your surprise, Neo has taken up residence on Sans' lap. The skeleton is rubbing behind the cat's ears absently, and is rewarded by a deep, rumbling purr. The display is kind of adorable, actually. You've never seen Sans so relaxed.

It's short-lived, however; Sans notices you and immediately tenses up a little.

"He's not normally so fond of strangers," you comment.

"i've met him before," he reminds you quietly. "cats seem to like whoever fills their food bowl."

"More or less," you agree, wandering into the kitchen to do just that. The cat meows loudly and follows you. You scoop a little extra food into his bowl and scratch his chin before looking back to Sans.

"ready?" he asks, standing and walking over to you.

You nod, and he pulls you into his side again. You use his hood to steady yourself, and when you blink, you're back in their apartment.

With a ridiculous headache.

"Jesus Christ," you whimper, rubbing between your eyes.

"at least you're not falling over," Sans points out, sitting on his own couch. You narrow your eyes at him and turn your attention to the visibly excited child in front of you.

Frisk pulls your bag away from you, drops it on the floor next to the couch, and bolts into the other room, returning with a DVD copy of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. They hold it up to you and jump up in down in place with an unspoken (unsigned?) question.

"FRISK AND I DECIDED TO HAVE A MOVIE NIGHT TONIGHT, SINCE IT IS SOMETHING WE ALL CAN ENJOY," Papyrus announces. "WE WILL START WITH ONE OF THE DISNEY PRINCESSES. THEY ARE CLASSIC."

"Sounds like fun," you say, signing it out as well. Frisk lets out a delighted squeal and makes for the DVD player. You settle into the couch in much of the same was as before, though this time, you're in the middle.

As the opening credits creep onto the screen, Frisk bounds away to shut off all of the lights. You have to physically stop yourself from singing along with most of the songs, but you can't keep from humming with some of them. This earns you a few small glances from Papyrus.

Eventually, Frisk crawls over your lap and stretches out over you and Sans. They yawn dramatically and smile, squeezing their eyes shut as if they're asleep. When you run your finger lightly over their exposed belly, they sieze up, as if trying not to laugh. You continue the unassuming task of tickling them without ever removing your eyes from the screen. Once the movie is over, Frisk sits up and swats at your hand.

* _"You ruined my plan!"_ they sign, a little annoyed.

" _What? Wanted Sans to carry you to bed?_ " you sign back teasingly. They stick their tongue out at you and grab another movie case from the shelf that the DVD player sits on. They switch the movie and lay back down across your lap.

How To Train Your Dragon. You can get behind this.

You leave the kid alone for the duration of this movie, finding yourself too engrossed in it to pay them much attention. You ignore when they shift and purposely try to bother you. Soon enough, they get fed up and get in your face. You narrow your eyes at them, and they do the same to you, their hands on your cheeks and their forehead against yours. It turns into something of a staring contest, which you end up winning. Frisk groans and flops back down onto your lap, curling up on you and you alone this time. You wrap your arms around them and throw your attention back at the movie.

By the end of it, Frisk is actually asleep, shoulders rising and falling steadily with their breath. Papyrus is looking a little tired as well; it's a bit past ten o'clock, and you know he's usually in bed by now, given that he has an early start for whatever job he has. The tall skeleton stands and takes the disk from the DVD player, then puts it back in its case and on the shelf. He looks back to Sans expectantly, who stands and wanders with his brother towards the hallway. You stand, situating Frisk in your hold so you don't drop them, and follow them in.

You consider yourself lucky that the kid is already in pajamas when you settle them into their bed. You eye Flowey, who had apparently been left alone on the windowsill, but he remains silent. He must know not to mess with Frisk's sleep schedule (you've seen the kid when they don't get much sleep, and it is _not_ a pretty sight). You pull the blankets over the sleeping mass of human child and pat their head lovingly. Part of you wants to lean down and press a kiss to their forehead, but you squash the maternal instinct in you and make for the door.

"Human?" Papyrus calls. His totally normal-for-anyone-but-Papyrus volume makes you flinch more than his loud one does. "Sans usually reads me a story right now. If you want, you can stay, too."

You look to Sans, who's waiting by Papyrus' bed while his younger brother selects something from the bookshelf. It looks like a kid's picture book. The taller hands it to his brother before climbing into his bed and pulling the covers up to his chin. He looks at you with wide, expectant sockets, and _damn it_ there's stars in them and you can't find it in your heart to excuse yourself. Sans stares at you for a long moment before sitting on the edge of the bed and opening the book.

"if you're going to listen, at least come sit," he says quietly, almost as if he's embarrassed.

You're not normally one to let your curiosity get the best of you, especially if you can tell that someone is uncomfortable, but you find yourself joining Sans on the edge of Papyrus' bed. You catch a glimpse of the books title page before Sans dives into the story.

 _Fluffy Bunny and the Missing Picnic Food_.

Sans reads in a way that makes it sound like he's only holding the book for show, like he has the story memorized. Each character has its own voice, and every dramatic part gets the attention in the form of voice inflections that it needs. The whole situation feels very... personal. You feel like an intruder. You find yourself looking everywhere but at Sans or Papyrus or the book.

Before you know it, they've finished, and Papyrus has a sleepy, satisfied look on his face. Sans stands and clanks his teeth against his brother's forehead in what you guess is a skeleton's version of a kiss.

"'night, bro," he says.

"Goodnight, brother," Papyrus replies. "And goodnight to you, human."

"Goodnight, Papyrus," you say quietly.

You follow Sans back into the living room after he turns off Papyrus' light and shuts the door. He sits on the couch, and you join him, sticking to the opposite end. He grabs the remote and turns on Netflix again, picking a random comedy special before sticking his hands in his pockets and slouching a bit.

"lemme know when you're ready to sleep and i'll split," he says.

You nod slowly, but look at him from the corner of your eye. "Do you not wear pajamas, or..?"

He chuckles. "pretty much already am," he tells you. "just have to take of the hoodie."

Duh. Obviously.

"what about you?" he asks.

You look down at your leggings and hoodie and briefly try to remember if you have a shirt on at all. After a moment of contemplation, you recall the graphic tee and shrug at him.

"Just have to take off the hoodie," you say, echoing him. This elicits another quiet laugh from him.

You watch the comedy special with him, watching time creep closer to eleven. Sans is showing no signs of falling asleep; he's totally immersed in the show, almost as if he's studying it. You fish your toothbrush and toothpaste from your bag after a while, hoping your bedtime routine will gain his attention and maybe push him to leave so you can sleep.

"Bathroom?" you ask.

He points, vaguely. You stand and walk over to the door a bit further down from Papyrus', letting your hand rest on the handle as you look back at him. Sans gives you a nod, and you let yourself in. You make short time of brushing your teeth and making sure you don't look like a total mess, but before you know it, you're wandering back out into the living room. Sans has put on another comedy special.

"tired?" he asks, looking over at you when you sit back down.

You shrug. He turns back to the screen, and you rest your face in your palm, propping your elbow on the armrest.

"You know," you say after another little while, "you're a good brother."

He stares at you, but says nothing.

"I can tell how much you really care for Paps," you go on. "And Frisk. You love them both so much. It's written all over your face every time you look at either of them."

You chance a glance at him, but his face is bright blue. He laughs nervously and returns your gaze.

"paps is the one who's a good brother," he says. "he's the coolest guy i know, and i know a lot of people. i just do what i can to make sure he's taken care of and happy. as for the kid..."

He trails off, trying to make it look like he got distracted by the screen again. You wait, watching him, knowing that he's well aware of your eyes on him. Eventually, his eyelights flick back over to you, and he sucks in a breath.

"i do what i can," he repeats.

You look at each other for another eternal moment before you look back to the screen. The special comes to an end, and you look to the clock. After midnight. Sans stands and points at a cabinet in the far corner of the room.

"we've got pillows and blankets in there," he tells you. "help yourself. i'm goin' to bed."

"Goodnight, then," you say, much quieter than you had anticipated.

He looks at you with an expression that can only be described as "soft" before turning away. "yeah, 'night."

You pull a blanket and a pillow from the cabinet and settle on the couch. They smell vaguely like cologne and ketchup. You sit up one last time to turn off the TV and pull off your hoodie, but when you settle back down, you realize why you find those smells so comforting. It's exactly what Sans smells like. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, as if the sensation of your eyelids almost vibrating will erase the thought from your mind and the tightness from your heart.

You don't need to be having thoughts like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Fourth, for those of you who celebrate it!  
> This chapter was actually twice as long, so I cut it in half, and you'll be getting the rest on Thursday. Good thing the second half was pretty much what I had planned for next chapter anyhow c:  
> PSA: I changed my tumblr URL to meekomyachi, so at least it's consistent now! I've gone through all of my old chapters to fix the links.   
> Stalk me on [tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)  
> Also you guys are super great and I'm such a slut for your wonderful comments


	8. Playdate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the author is slaming this down on the table really quick before she leaves to meet her brand new baby godson

You're roused from your not-so-peaceful slumber by Frisk jumping on you. You groan and crack your eyes open. They look excited to see that you're awake.They bounce up and down a few times for good measure before pulling on your arms. You prop yourself up on your elbows and stare at them for a moment. They stick their tongue out at you and twist their body until they fall off of you, hiding behind Papyrus' legs.

Oh, Papyrus is down here, too.

"GOOD MORNING, HUMAN!" he says happily. Way too chipper for first thing in the morning. "I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WANTED TO MAKE SURE THAT YOU WERE AWAKE, AND FRISK SO WONDERFULLY DECIDED TO ASSIST ME."

You nod and rub the back of your hand across one of your eyes. Papyrus is conveniently standing in the way of the clock. You grimace.

"I MUST URGE YOU TO GET DRESSED AND READY TO GO, HUMAN," he continues. "I WILL HAVE TO GET SANS WHILE YOU ARE DRESSING. PLEASE GO AHEAD AND USE THE BATHROOM." 

He practically shoves your bag into your arms and pushes you towards the bathroom. You let yourself in and shut the door behind you. You try to pull yourself together before you slip out of yesterday's clothes and into the clean ones you brought with you. You dig your toothbrush from its plastic baggie and get to work brushing your teeth, eyeing your hair with a little bit of venom.

How to get it to cooperate today..?

You brush out your hair after rinsing your mouth, then throw all of your stuff back into your bag and zip it shut. You head back into the living room, dropping your bag on the couch and falling onto it again.

You don't expect Sans next to you.

"hey," he says.

Your response is replaced with a yawn, which you stifle with your hand. He just gives you an easy grin.

"tired?"

You nod.

"hard to sleep with spooky skeletons in the other room?"

You give him a hard glare. He laughs a little before turning back to Papyrus, who seems very... _fixated_. On your shirt. On the text on your shirt.

"WHAT DOES THIS MEAN? 'COFFEE BEFORE TALKEE'..?" Papyrus gasps. "SANS, YOU DID NOT TELL ME THAT SOME HUMANS REQUIRED THE HUMAN MORNING CAFFEINE BEVERAGE TO HAVE VERBAL FUNCTION." You open your mouth to say something to him, but you're cut off by him leaning down to grasp your shoulders. "HUMAN, I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL SEE TO IT THAT YOU RECEIVE THIS BEVERAGE! PLEASE DO NOT FRET!"

There's genuine concern written across his face. You don't have the heart to tell him that no, you don't need coffee to speak, so you just give him a weak smile and a small nod. Sans looks over at you as Papyrus turns his attention to Frisk. He raises a brow bone at you, and all you can do is shrug. 

"WELL, WE WILL GET GOING. HUMAN, WE CAN PUT YOUR BELONGINGS IN THE LARGE STORAGE COMPARTMENT OF MY CAR. THEN, WE WILL GET YOUR SPEECH DRINK. THEN, WE WILL GO TO THE PARK."

You chance a glance at the clock as you stand to follow him from the apartment. It's a little after eleven in the morning. Somehow, you managed to sleep in, despite your discomfort(?) about how the pillow and blanket smelled. You sling your bag over your shoulder and look at the short skeleton on the couch.

You find yourself wondering briefly if Sans would be capable of keeping you as warm as the blanket did.

You feel your cheeks flush, so you hang your head and follow Papyrus to the car, thankful that your feigned muteness prevents you from answering any of the tall skeleton's immediate questions ("ARE YOU FEELING OKAY, HUMAN?"). He gestures for you to take the front seat after you place your bag in the trunk. You oblige, buckling your seat belt, and you watch Sans and Frisk get into the back. Sans gives you slow wink when he catches you looking at him through the side mirror. The corners of your mouth twitch into a tiny smile. That seems to satisfy him; he looks a little surprised for a second, but his expression softens a little, and he looks back to Frisk.

Maybe things aren't as awkward as you feel like they are.

Papyrus stops at the first coffee place that he sees, and not surprisingly at all, it's one of the many Starbucks littered across the corners of Mt. Ebott. You wave for him to stay in the car, then wander in and place an order for something simple and hot and filled with cream, watching the barista give you a weird (yet relieved) look as you do. Once you recieve it, you dump in a few packets of sugar and head back out to the car.

You sit next to Papyrus, feeling him watch you, and take a long, deliberate sip. You look over to him and smile.

"Vocal function restored," you tell him. 

He brightens up immediately and yells for you to fasten your seatbelt. Sans gives you an odd look through the mirror, which you respond to with a noncommittal shrug. 

It doesn't take long to reach the park. The sun is shining down in such a warm, loving way that you almost wish you had worn shorts today, though April is still a few days away. The four of you wander for a little while, you holding tight to Frisk's hand, until you finally notice Toriel at a picnic table. When she sees you, she stands and waves a large paw. You can't help but stare at the basket she had brought with her. Some sort of delicious aroma is rising from it.

"Hello, everyone," Toriel greets you. You watch as Frisk gets wrapped in a too-warm hug, and they immediately try to squirm free. "I have made a lot of snacks, as I was not sure how long we would be out here."

"It's much appreciated," you say, smiling at her.

"I was not expecting you to be here," she tells you as you sit down across from her. "It is a good thing I made extra of everything."

All you can do is nod and take another long drink of your coffee. Frisk stares at you for a moment, and you see Papyrus wringing his hands again, looking at you nervously. 

"Why don't you go play or something?" you suggest, signing it out for the child. Both of them perk right up and bound away towards a rather large play structure. 

"i'll go keep an eyesocket on 'em," Sans mutters, giving you a slow wink and heading over to a bench not too far away from the structure. You have no doubt that he'll end up falling asleep. 

"I guess that leaves the two of us," you say.

"I am glad," Toriel says. "I have been wanting to get to know you better."

You smile at her, and she passes you some kind of muffin from the basket, taking one for herself as well. 

"I'd like that," you say. "I don't get much of a chance to talk to you."

Toriel returns your smile with her own, something that immediately fills you with warmth and makes you feel safe. You take a bite from the muffin, remembering that you never got a chance to eat breakfast, and you find yourself taking a second to marvel at its flavor. It's a regular blueberry muffin, but something about it feels almost tingly and warm, like it just came from the oven.

You twist to watch Frisk swinging from the monkey bars while Papyrus yells something at them about battle strategy and being a Royal Guard. Frisk just sticks their tongue out at him and keeps swinging, almost nailing him in the face with their foot. 

"You know," Toriel starts slowly, "I am very grateful for how much you look after my child, in school as well as outside. I understand that you agreed to spend the night with Sans and Papyrus for Frisk's sake last night. That was very kind of you to do that."

"They weren't taking no for an answer," you say honestly. 

Toriel hides a laugh behind her hand. "Yes, Frisk is a very strong-willed child," she agrees. "I must say that I think I may know why they wanted you there so badly. I caught Frisk telling Flowey that they see you as something of a big sister, instead of just a helper at school."

You can feel your face heat up, so you look down at your half-eaten muffin and take another bite. Toriel touches your shoulder lightly, bringing your gaze back to her face. The warm smile has returned to her face. 

"I haven't known them for very long," you try to reason. "There's no way--"

"Frisk became like a child to me after a matter of mere minutes," Toriel cuts in. She waits a moment before continuing. "They befriended Papyrus within a day, even after he tried to capture them, and became close with Sans because of that. They won Undyne over, even though becoming friends with them was going against the mission given to her by the king. Alphys abandoned her mission as well, after watching them being so friendly with everyone else. They were able to win over every monster they met within a matter of minutes, even if they got hurt in the process. I would not be surprised if you had felt immediately drawn to the child."

You think for a moment before formulating a response. "I know I stopped a bunch of kids from hurting them on that first day I met them. I don't know, I feel really responsible for them," you admit. "Like, responsible outside of the fact that yes, the school is holding me responsible for Frisk because I'm their translator."

"See? I told you." Toriel looks past you and over at the playground, finally, and freezes. You turn to see what she's looking at.

Several human parents are getting a little too close to Papyrus for comfort. He's wringing his hands again (you figure that it's something he does when he's nervous) and looking at the ground, sweat beading across his skull. Frisk is standing in front of him, holding their arms out to the side as if to protect him. Sans is standing, and from what you can see, the beginnings of a blue flicker in his eye socket is starting to form.

Before you know it, you're at Sans' side, placing a firm grip on his shoulder. He stops moving, but the magic around him intensifies. It almost hurts.

"Ah, _finally_ , a human," one of the parents says, halfway between relieved and disgusted. "Tell this monster to stay away from our kids. And keep your freak child away from them, too."

You snort. One of the parents raises an eyebrow at you, but at least their attention is no longer on Papyrus or Frisk.

"let me," Sans says, his voice low. You're not sure if anyone else could hear him, but you know exactly what he's getting at.

"No," you whisper. You fix your gaze on the parents and speak so they can hear you. "I'm not sure what the problem is. They're just playing together. It's not like your kids are getting hurt."

"You expected her to listen to reason?" one says to the other. "You can't expect a _monster fucker_ like her to understand the need to protect her children."

You open your mouth to speak, your cheeks burning, but nothing will come out. _Monster fucker_? Sans shifts at your side again, reaching to remove your hand from his shoulder. He lets out a small noise that reminds you of a dog growling.

"That is enough." Toriel has joined you, scooping Frisk up into her arms. The human parents look a little more intimidated by the towering monster. "I will not tolerate that kind of language in front of my child, and I am sure that you are thoroughly ashamed to have let your own children see you acting as animals in front of them. What kind of example is that?"

They remain silent. One shuffles in place and looks down at the child hanging on to their legs. They look confused as to what's going on, even a little scared.

"We will be going now," she announces. "Come. We will get the basket and head home for now. This is not a place I want my child playing in."

"tori," Sans says, almost pleading, as he looks at the humans. Despite the fact that he's fairly shorter than them, they seem to freeze up at his gaze. 

Good. Sans is terrifying.

"No," she says sternly. "Come, we're leaving."

As you all walk away and gather the basket, you look to Toriel. "Toriel, they kind of just won," you tell her. "You can't just let them get away with talking about Frisk that way."

"or with calling her _that_ ," Sans adds, jerking his thumb towards you. 

"It is a minuscule battle," Toriel reasons. "You remember that there is a war coming, do you not? It is not worth our time to punish every human that acts wrongly against us individually, nor will it do anything for our cause." She squeezes Frisk closer to her. "Besides, it would only strengthen their arguments against us if I let Sans do any damage."

Sans huffs, but moves ahead to fall into stride with his brother. He nudges his brother with his fist and starts laying the puns on in thick layers. Papyrus seems to relax.

"I'm sorry," you breathe. "We were just talking about how I've been able to stick up for Frisk, and..."

"Not another word about it, my child," she replies, smiling at you. "The fact that you made it over there so quickly was more than enough. I was afraid that someone would try to touch Papyrus, or hurt him, and that would have sent Sans into a fit of rage that no one could get him out of."

As you watch the brothers ahead of you, it finally clicks. Sans would do anything for his brother, and as it turns out, anything for Frisk as well. You find yourself smiling.

"It would, wouldn't it?" you murmur, your tone more affectionate than you wanted it to be. Toriel gives you an odd look and snickers.

"Yes, indeed it would," she agrees. "Something tells me that it does not scare you in the slightest, my child."

You shrug, looking at your feet to hide your embarrassment. Toriel just laughs and ushers you toward Papyrus' car. She pulls him to the side and murmurs something to him while you stand near Sans, who is busy ruffling Frisk's hair.

In the end, Papyrus drives you back to their apartment after you all share goodbyes with Toriel, who insists that you all take home some of the food. You pull your bag from the trunk of the car and move it into your own once you arrive.

"Thanks for having me," you say, smiling at them. You kneel to hug Frisk. 

"COME BACK AND HAVE DINNER AND SLEEP ON OUR COUCH ANY TIME, HUMAN," Papyrus says. "MAYBE NEXT TIME, WE WON'T HAVE PROBLEMS AT THE PARK."

"Hopefully not," you say. "I'll be sure to come back and hang out, Paps. Maybe you could even come to my place for dinner one night."

Papyrus visibly becomes excited as he looks between you and Sans, as if waiting for his brother's permission. Sans shrugs and looks at you.

"if that's what you want to do, bro," he says. 

"THEN WE ACCEPT! HUMAN, YOU WILL TELL US WHEN TO COME OVER, RIGHT?"

"Of course, I'll make sure to text you," you tell him. 

He clasps his hands on your shoulders and pulls you into a hug. You're not sure what to do with your arms for a moment -- the only thing near you that you could wrap your arms around is his spine, but you get the feeling that it would be inappropriate. Instead, you reach up and pat his back, startled by the feeling of ribs beneath his shirt. He releases you quickly.

"I have to get going," you say quietly, pulling away and opening the door to your car. "I'll, um... Bye."

Sans pulls Frisk away from your car as you shut the door. You wave, and both Papyrus and Frisk wave back energetically. Sans just nods at you and raises his hand. You drive away. 

Once home, you curl up on your couch and turn on the TV, picking up where you left off with the show you've been bingeing on Netflix. Neo curls up on your lap and falls asleep almost immediately. You look at the clock. It's almost two in the afternoon. You keep going with the show until your phone rings.

"Hello?" you greet the person on the other line.

"Hey, punk!" Undyne's voice shouts. You hold the phone away from your head.

"Hey, Undyne," you say. "What's up?"

"I found out something interesting from Papyrus a little while ago. Wanna go out with him and me tonight?"

You click your tongue in thought and look at the clock again. "Yeah, sure," you say. "I'll come out with you tonight."

"It's a _date_ ," she says, then starts cackling as she hangs up the phone.

You get the feeling that you should have said no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter was a bit shorter than normal ;-; I was having a lot of trouble staying motivated... _**BECAUSE I'M SUPER PUMPED FOR NEXT CHAPTER.**_  
>  Click [this](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com) to go to my tumblr and look at things! Or ask things! Or do things!  
> Also, I track the tags "#fwtst" and "#meekomyachi" on tumblr, so if you make any, I dunno, _cool art_ or anything that you want me to see, that's the way to get me to see it!  
>  I love you all and you're all great <3


	9. Undercover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This will live up to none of your expectations, and Reader gets some anxiety that we all can probably relate to.

You stare at yourself in the mirror. Papyrus said to just dress casual and be prepared for a lot of walking in the text that he sent you, but another text from Undyne told you to completely doll yourself up, but yes, be prepared for a lot of walking. You had chosen one of your more casual work outfits -- a black shirt tucked into a flowing, floral skirt that falls just below your knees. You matched it with a pair of comfortable black flats, and now you're here. You look yourself up and down one more time before heading back into the living room to wait. 

You pull on a black cardigan that usually sits on the back of your couch. The weather said that it would be a bit chilly tonight, and you'd rather be safe than sorry. You lean against the back of your couch, looking at the door, waiting. You sling your purse over your shoulder and wait a little longer. You look at the time. It's nearing seven-fifteen, and they had said they'd be here by seven. You're growing a little impatient by the time you finally hear a knock on the door.

You pull it open to reveal Undyne and Papyrus, both in what are considered normal outfits for them (Undyne in tight jeans and a muscle tank, and Papyrus in a loud shirt with a bold pattern and custom-tailored pants). They both give you a sheepish grin as Undyne leans on the door frame.

"Hey," she says. "Sorry we're late."

"It's okay," you tell her. "I guess you have a night of activity planned for me, so let's get going."

You follow them from the apartment, locking the door behind you. The three of you head into the elevator and are in the lobby of the building in no time.

"Where are we going?" you venture after a moment.

Papyrus immediately begins to sweat. "UM, WELL, HUMAN, WE ARE--"

"IT'S A SURPRISE!" Undyne bellows, slapping a hand over Papyrus' mouth.

You raise an eyebrow at them, but say nothing more. The night's cool air hits you hard as you leave the pleasantly warm building. You were right to put on the cardigan. You tug the sleeves down over your hands and cross your arms as the three of you walk further into downtown. Undyne leads you around a corner about twenty minutes into your walk and towards what you recognize as an art museum. Papyrus takes hold of your arm and pulls you to the side. In front of the museum is Sans, looking slightly uncomfortable in a button-up shirt (undone at the collar), slacks, and a pair of Chuck Taylors that could be considered nice. He doesn't seem to notice any of you from the distance as he rolls his sleeves up to his elbows and shoves his hands in his pants pockets.

"What is this?" you ask in an urgent whisper. Undyne clicks her tongue and shakes her head.

"Papyrus heard Sans agree to go on a date with someone," she says in her own whisper. "We both know it wasn't you. You don't have the guts. No offense." You give her a hard glare, and she gives you an unapologetic smile. "Anyways, Pap was worried about him, so we're going to--"

"I wasn't worried," Papyrus cuts in, his hushed volume making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. "You wanted to see the human's reaction. You shouldn't lie, Undyne."

"Oh my _god_ , Papyrus, you can't just tell her that," Undyne scolds. 

Papyrus shrugs and shifts his focus back to his brother. The tall skeleton being so quiet and inexpressive is a little hard for you to comprehend. You figure that he's taking this stealth mission very seriously. You follow his gaze back to Sans, who has finally moved. He's talking to a girl -- a human girl! -- who's dressed rather scantily in a too-tight, short black dress that you don't think you could ever pull off. Your heart lurches. You notice the tell-tale twist in his grin as he cracks a joke, and the girl laughs. A little too hard. A little too loud.

"Oh, Sansy, you're too much!" she shrieks.

Sans says something that you can't hear, then jerks his thumb back at the museum. She nods vigerously and follows him in, her painted nails tracing his shoulder blade as they walk. You feel Undyne start to trace small circles between your own shoulder blades in a comforting motion. You swat her hand away.

"Okay, so you brought me to see Sans on a date. Is that all?" you ask, a little more venom in your voice than you would like.

Neither Undyne nor Papyrus flinch at your tone, and they exchange a glance.

"We're taking you around with him," Undyne tells you.

"It's a stealth mission," Papyrus adds.

You heave a sigh, watching Sans and the other human disappear through the front door. "If we're following them, then we need to get going," you say. "Wouldn't want to lose our targets."

Undyne gives you a big, toothy grin and smacks your back. "That's my girl! Let's go!"

Papyrus finally relaxes his grip on your arm as the three of you head into the building, casually ducking behind one of the pillars as Sans and his date walk past. You marvel at how dramatically her makeup is applied. She must have spent a long time on it. You shake the respect from your head and allow yourself to continue being bitter. You're not sure why, but something about this whole ordeal is very upsetting.

Well, you know the reason, but you're not ready to admit it to yourself or anyone else.

Undyne wanders over to the ticket taker and asks about tickets, but apparently it's one of the museum's free nights. She walks back over with a shrug, and the three of you continue your pursuit. You keep feeling your anxiety bubble up when you see them, or almost get caught, but it seems that Papyrus is really good at pulling you into a hiding spot just in the nick of time.

"This doesn't seem like Sans' scene," Undyne comments after about half an hour of following them around. You have to agree; neither he nor his date have really stopped to look at anything. They just keep talking, and they both seem so relaxed.

Your heart twists.

"No, it doesn't," Papyrus agrees, keeping his voice low. If anything would tip Sans off to your presence, it would be the sound of his brother's voice. "I can't help but wonder why they came here."

"It's free visit night," Undyne says. "That could be the reason."

Papyrus hums, but he doesn't seem to agree. He grabs your arm for the umpteenth time and pulls you around a corner, Undyne following quickly behind. He presses his back to the wall as Sans and his date pass by.

You notice how long her hair is. It reaches just past her shoulder blades. You self-consciously run your fingers through your own.

"Sansy, I'm bored with this now," she whines as they walk past. "Let's just go get drinks somewhere, yeah? We could have _so much more fun_ with that."

Sans makes a noise somewhere between a hum and a grunt. "yeah, i s'pose," he replies.

You wait a few more minutes before you peek around the corner again. You're getting a few weird looks from people, but you try to block them out. Sans and the woman are nearly out of sight. You relax your stance and stare after them for a long moment, until you can hardly see them anymore.

"They're gone," you say quietly. "They left."

"Then why are we still here?!" Undyne growls. If you weren't in a museum, you're sure she would be yelling. "Let's go!"

"Undyne, I don't think we should--"

"Stop being defeatist," she says, her tone almost loving. "I don't want you going home all upset like this."

"Undyne is right, human," Papyrus agrees. "There will be a satisfactory ending to this. I can feel it in my _bones_."

He nudges your side with his elbow, waggling his brow bones, and you have to cover your mouth to stifle your laugh.

"I thought you hated puns," you say, looking back up at him.

There's a light orange blush dusting his cheeks, but he smiles at you and shrugs. "I've been known to make one every once in a while," he tells you. "Just do not tell my brother."

"I won't," you say.

The three of you head back to the entrance, and you pull your sleeves over your hands a little more. You're not even cold anymore, you're just... nervous? Self-conscious? You're feeling a whole lot of negativity, and Papyrus seems to catch on to it, because he pats your head in a reassuring manner before you exit the building.

You follow the duo deeper into the city's downtown. You figure that if you're out any later, you may end up catching a bus home. The familiar warm brick front of Grillby's comes into view. You watch Sans enter, and Papyrus heaves a sigh. You ignore him. Leaning against the front of the building, face partially hidden by a black hood and dark curls, illuminated by the dull orange of a cigarette, is someone you're comfortable with. And that you know is bad news on a stealth mission.

"Hey, darling," he says as you venture closer.

"Nolan," you reply. "These are my friends, Papyrus and Undyne."

He nods in their direction before taking another long drag.

"You shouldn't be smoking," you chastise.

"I know," he says with a small laugh, smoke billowing out and curling into the air. "It helps, though. What brings you out to Grillby's? Sans is inside, if you're looking for him."

"That's the thing," Undyne cuts in. "We were, uh, tailing him? The girl he was with is his date, and our girl here--"

" _Undyne_ ," you whine. "We followed him around a museum for the better part of an hour, and we ended up following him here. They think this is something I need to be watching."

Nolan laughs a loud, clear laugh. "Oh, babe, that's hilarious. You know I'd drag you to do the same thing. You've got some super-cool monster friends here. Kendra'll love 'em."

"Is she here?" you ask, a little nervously.

"Yeah, we've got a booth inside. I was just stepping out for a smoke. Wanna join us? We'll keep you hidden."

You think for a moment, but it's Papyrus who speaks up. "That would be wonderful," he says. You wonder why he hasn't reverted to shouting, but remember that Sans is just on the other side of the door, possibly on the other side of the bar, but Papyrus' voice can probably be heard for miles.

"Cool. Lemme run it by Ken real quick." Nolan grins at Papyrus and snuffs out his cigarette on the side of the building, dropping the butt to the ground and twisting it beneath his shoe for good measure. He opens the door and steps in for a moment, and comes right out. He gestures for you to follow him in.

You look around nervously as you enter, but Nolan immediately ushers you into a booth near the bar. You're sent over to the wall, and a very happy to see you Kendra slides in next to you, blocking anyone's view of you from the bar. She slips an arm around your shoulders and pulls you in for a half-hug as Undyne and Papyrus scoot in across from you.

"Hi, sweetie," she says. "Nolan told me what's up."

"Want a drink?" Nolan asks.

"Not after last time," you say. "Just water."

Undyne raises a finger. "I'll have something," she says. "Anything's fine."

Papyrus looks at his hands. "Water as well," he says in almost a whisper. 

"Got it," Nolan says, and saunters away to the bar.

"So, the skelebabe's on a date, huh?" Kendra pushes. "Why are you tailing him?"

"His brother and our friend thought it would be a good idea," you say.

"A-actually, it was Undyne's idea," Papyrus squeaks. 

Kendra smiles warmly at him. "You must be his brother, then. I'm Kendra. It's nice to meet you."

"Papyrus," he responds, regaining his composure. "This is Undyne."

"Hey," Undyne says, suddenly disinterested as Nolan returns with Grillby, who hands her a beer. She raises it at the fire elemental.

"Don't tell Sans we're here," Papyrus urges, almost in a pleading tone.

Grillby stares at him for a moment, then nods. Nolan sets the glasses of water down on the table, then takes one of the blackberry drinks you had before and sits next to Undyne. Grillby tucks the empty tray beneath his arm and walks away.

Kendra hums and swirls her own glass of water, still half-full by her standards. "Well, I think it's a load of fun that you guys are doing it. Is that floozy next to him his date?" She cranes her neck to look, and you do as well.

The woman is sitting next to Sans at the bar, in the seat that you had occupied the last time you were there. She's laughing again, too loud and too hard like before. Sans has an easy smile on his face, and he doesn't seem rigid at all. Either he's really good at hiding how tense he is, or he's really comfortable with this girl. As she talks to him, she touches his arm, his hand, his shoulder. Eventually, her nails reach the vertebrae of his neck, and he recoils just a little bit, holding up a hand and murmuring something with a slow wink.

The same slow wink he normally gives you.

There's a strange mixture of anger and sadness welling within you. It has a name, but you'll be damned if you admit to it. You take a drink of your water and stare into the glass, watching the small ripples and waves caused by you moving it. Kendra rubs your forearm.

"She's here a lot," Nolan says, for once keeping his voice down. It's almost as unsettling as a quiet Papyrus. "Like, every time I'm here, she is too. And I'm here a _lot_."

"That doesn't make me feel any better," you mumble.

"Nolan's right. And she's always drunk off her ass and flirting with Sans," Kendra adds. "It's super weird. Usually he shuts her right down. I wonder why he's entertaining her this time...?"

Papyrus shifts in his seat and takes a drink of his water. You let your mind wander to how in the world he manages to swallow without a throat or anything of the sort. Then you remember, this is Grillby's. It's a place run by a monster. Just about everything is probably infused with some kind of magic so that everyone can enjoy it. You grimace at your glass and take another drink.

"This is quite the mystery," Undyne says thoughtfully. You hate when she gets thoughtful, because it's almost always followed up by a mischievous grin and a half-baked plan. "Dude, he hardly goes out with anyone. He always comes here by himself."

"Maybe he likes her?" Nolan suggests, casting you a sympathetic glance.

"I-I doubt it," Papyrus says. "He, uh... He asked me what he should do. She asked him out, and he wasn't sure. I reminded him of the time that I went on a pity date with Frisk, and..." He shifts his gaze away from everyone, focusing on his glass. "He decided that he would give it a shot. It's a pity date, unless he's decided that he likes her."

"A... pity date?" you echo.

Papyrus nods slowly. You sigh and look at Kendra.

"Let me out," you say quietly.

Your heart is pounding out of your chest, and you feel like you're going to vomit. A pity date, huh? That's low, even for Sans, you think. Kendra scoots out of the booth to let you stand, a concerned expression on her face. You offer her a reassuring smile that isn't much more than the twitching of the corners of your mouth before you stand. You hover there for a moment, your eyes falling on Sans. He's turned towards her now, resting his face in his palm with his elbow propped on the bar. He's still got a lazy grin on his face, and an expression that makes it look like he's enjoying himself. He flicks his eyelights in your direction and then back to her, but freezes and turns to you.

Oh. Shit.

"He saw me," you whisper.

He continues to stare at you, completely oblivious to the woman trying to get his attention. His grin falls, and a light blue blush covers his cheekbones. You will yourself to turn away, looking down at the table.

"I'm gonna go get some air," you say, a little louder.

You move towards the door, but Papyrus stands and takes hold of your wrist from across the table. If you've blown your cover, apparently Papyrus doesn't need to remain hidden, either.

"Human, we did not mean to upset you," he says, a little closer to his normal tone, but not quite shouting. "We thought that it would be a fun experience, and a chance for you to learn a little more about my brother. I know he has not been open with you."

"Papyrus, I need air," you reiterate, pulling away from him gently. You can feel the anxiety welling up in your throat, tightening it like you're about to cry. You're sure it's more than just Sans staring at you now.

"Are you okay?" Undyne asks. Great, now she's standing and keeping you there, too. "You're looking kind of pale. Are you sure you don't want to just sit and--?"

" _I need air_ ," you say again, a little more urgently. It's getting harder for you to breathe with everyone staring at you like this. You chance a glance in Sans' direction again. He looks like he's about to stand.

You jerk your arm away from Papyrus and head for the door. Once outside, you take in a deep gulp of the cold air and lean against the brick where Nolan had been. You turn your face up towards the sky, trying to find shapes in the clouds illuminated by the sunset. You feel awful, pulling away from Papyrus like that, like you're overreacting over something small. Sans is allowed to go on dates. It's not like it's any of your business, either. So why the hell would Undyne and Papyrus--?

Is it that obvious?

You take another deep breath, then another, feeling yourself relax against the brick. You're fine. Everything's okay. It was mostly the feeling of all of the eyes in the bar burning holes in your back that set you off. Granted, you work in an elementary school, and you often have children staring at you all day, but that's... different. Children don't give you looks of judgement and sympathy. Adult monsters and humans do, though. 

"wanna know why grillby decided to be a bartender?"

Your reaction is somewhere between tensing up and jumping, you're startled so badly. You look over to Sans, who has his hands shoved in his pockets and a nervous look on his face. You just stare at him for a moment. 

"because he gets to call all the shots," he finishes, wincing at his own joke. "sorry, that was bad."

"Very," you agree.

He tries to grin at you, but it almost immediately falters. He shifts his weight between his legs and heaves a sigh. 

"you doin' okay?" he asks. "it's not like you to run from my brother like that."

"It felt like everyone was staring at me," you admit.

"nope, just me, bud."

That doesn't help at all. You look back up to the sky, hoping that he won't notice the burning of your cheeks. He settles himself against the brick wall, right next to you. Warmth radiates off of him.

"You look nice," you squeak.

Sans chuckles. "paps insisted that i dress up, even though it was a pity date." You must physically cringe, because he taps your arm with his fist lightly. "hey, don't take it so personally. if you want, i'll go on a pity date with you, too."

You groan. "That's not funny."

"you're right. it'd probably be more of a friendship date with you," he says. "since, you know, you're not a stranger. i don't let strangers sleep on my couch."

You look at him in time for him to give you a slow wink. His grin has returned to its usual easygoing nature.

"Why'd you follow me out?" you blurt. He stares at you, bewildered, so you continue. "I mean, it's rude to leave your date."

Sans shrugs, looking away from you. "dunno. seemed more important to make sure you were ok."

The two of you stand in silence for a moment before the door swings open violently and Papyrus makes himself seen. He stands in front of you, followed closely by Nolan, who looks as if he had been trying to restrain the tall skeleton. 

"BROTHER," Papyrus says, back to his normal tone. "I DID NOT MEAN FOR THE HUMAN TO GET SO UPSET, BELIEVE ME. UNDYNE AND I THOUGHT THAT FOLLOWING YOU WOULD--"

"you followed me?" Sans sputters, his sockets wide, the lights dimming.

Papyrus straightens himself out and looks away, sweat beading on his skull. "UM, YES," he says quickly. "A-ANYWAYS, WE DID NOT THINK THAT SHE WOULD GET SO UPSET BY SEEING YOU ON YOUR PITY DATE. SHE HAS BEEN VERY TENSE ALL EVENING."

"That's enough, bud," Nolan says gently. 

"I-it's just not a normal thing for people to follow other people while they're on dates," you tell Papyrus hastily. "I was just a bit uncomfortable with it. Dates are usually a private thing."

"I KNEW THAT," he continues. "I JUST THOUGHT THAT MAYBE YOU'D BE ABLE TO SEE MORE OF WHAT MY BROTHER IS LIKE WHEN HE'S NOT TELLING TERRIBLE JOKES. ALSO UNDYNE WOULD NOT TAKE NO FOR AN ANSWER."

"DON'T BRING ME INTO THIS!" the fish monster yells from inside. You figure she and Kendra are right by the window.

"pap, i'm all for bein' friends with her, but i don't think that's the right way to go about it," Sans says, almost in a scolding tone. "i don't mind being followed around, but if she was uncomfortable, you shouldn't have made her do it."

Papyrus looks at his feet. You feel a pang of guilt. You don't imagine that Sans gets upset with his brother very often.

"why don't you leave her and i alone out here for a minute so we can talk?" he suggests.

The taller brother nods and heads back into the bar without another word. Nolan gives you a thumbs up and a sympathetic smile before heading in after him, shouting about how he knows a few ways to raise his spirits.

"You know, with the way Papyrus talks, I was thinking that you'd be cracking awful jokes all the time," you say. "I only get to hear them once in a while."

" _tibia_ honest, it's because i can't tell what you would find _humerus_ ," he says, looking over at you again with a smile.

You snort and cover your mouth. "Bone puns? Really? Surely you've got better than that."

"i've got a skele _ton_ of those ones, though," he argues.

You let yourself laugh a little bit at that one, and his face lights up. He takes a breath, like he's about to tell you another joke, but you hold up a hand to silence him.

"Sans, I... I'm really sorry," you say slowly, pulling your sleeves down and crossing your arms. "It wasn't an okay thing for me to do, following you around all night. It's even worse that I dragged you away from her like this. If you wanted to head back in, I'd understand."

Sans grins over at you again. "i already told you, it's more important to me to make sure that my friend is ok than it is to entertain a stranger." When you don't say anything, he nudges you again. "not to mention that i was kinda lookin' for a way outta the date probably the entire time."

You can't help but smile like that. "She did seem kind of atrocious."

"can't stand people that only talk about themselves."

"You looked so comfortable, though."

He shrugs. "if there's one thing i'm good at, it's looking like i'm comfortable when i'm not." He laughs when your face falls and you look at your feet. "hey, kid, don't look so down. i'm not pretending right now, if that's what you're worried about."

It was what you were worrying about. You put another smile on your face and look at him, studying his face for a second. Sometimes, you can see that he's straining to keep the smile on his face, because his eye sockets won't be as relaxed (as weird as that sounds) as they are when he's actually relaxed. Right now, he's telling you the truth. If he looked any more comfortable, he may as well be asleep.

You look back to the sky one last time as the stars start to come out. "I'm not pretending either," you tell him.

"no?"

"No. I'm perfectly comfortable, too. Just like this."

He exhales in a way that makes him sound relieved. You keep your chin tilted up, counting the stars that you can see through the clouds. Sans remains silent at your side for a while before you see your other four friends come out.

"We're all headed back," Kendra says, jangling her keys. "I'm gonna take Papyrus and Undyne back home, too. Do you want a ride too, Sans?"

"nah," he says. "i gotta head back alone anyways. i'll go ahead and drop her off at home, too." He nudges your side with his elbow.

"Suit yourself," Nolan grumbles. 

"I HOPE I HAVE NOT RUINED YOUR FRIENDSHIP," Papyrus says, tugging at the hem of his shirt. Nolan rubs his arm in a comforting way.

"Everything's fine, Paps," you say.

"GOOD," Undyne says. "You nerds caused Papyrus a lot of worry. He thinks you're mad at him."

"i could never be mad at my cool bro," Sans says easily, like he's had to say it a million times before.

"I don't think anyone could be mad at someone as cool as you," you agree, nodding in Papyrus' direction.

The tall skeleton seems to brighten up immediately. "WELL THEN, I SUPPOSE YOU TWO ARE RIGHT! I'LL SEE YOU AT HOME, BROTHER. GOOD NIGHT, HUMAN."

You say your goodbyes to everyone before looking back so Sans. "So eager to take me home," you tease.

"i figured i owe ya that much, for staring at ya like that," he says with another wink. You roll your eyes at him.

"Now, are we walking, driving, or teleporting?" you ask.

He grins and leads you into the alley next to Grillby's once neither of you see any more passerby. He pulls you into his side and barely gives you any warning before you feel magic gather around you and your vision goes black. Suddenly, you're in your living room again, stumbling away from him and grinning.

"The more I do that, the more fun it is," you tell him. 

"heh. you're a weird human." Sans leans over the back of your couch to pet Neo. 

You watch him interacting with the cat for a moment before you sit on the couch. "Do you want to stay and watch a movie or something? It's not like you have to drive home."

He pauses in his stroking of the cat and adopts a contemplative expression. "not tonight. paps gets pretty cranky without his bedtime story," he says.

"Suit yourself," you say quietly, petting Neo as he moves onto your lap.

"i'll see ya later, pal."

You look back at him. He gives you one last wink before you blink and he's gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This shitstorm. This is what I made you guys get pumped about.  
> Mostly just because it was super fun for me to write.  
> I dunno if I ever told you guys this, but I get some really bad anxiety right before I post chapters, and almost every single time I'm like, "IT'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR THESE ANGELS", but then like the angels you are, you swoop into the comments and make me feel like I'm the best writer in the world. So thank you, guys. It means so much to me -hugs-  
> Yell at me about it in the comments. I love that shit.  
> Yell at me on my [tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com) too. I love that shit.  
> 


	10. Denial, Probably

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we get the ball rollin'.

During the school day, there's tension in the air so thick that you could cut it with a knife.

None of the kids seem to notice it, and neither does Mrs. Anderson as she barrels through the day's lesson plans, leaving your fingers a little sore from the quick signing. You notice it, though. You notice it as if it were a tangible thing. If you reach out, you could probably grab some of this tension and take it home with you in a jar. You could keep it as a pet, name it Jeffery. 

You mostly feel it when you look out the windows. There's been a bit more traffic near the school for the past few days, and quite a few more pedestrians, all of which are adult. Sometimes, they stare up at the window as they walk by. They're too far away to make out an expression, but it makes you feel almost unsafe when your eyes meet with theirs. You've started avoiding the windows. 

Some kids picked on Frisk again during lunch. When you looked at them to see who it was (after you had stopped the endeavor in its tracks, and while Mrs. Anderson was scolding them), you recognized one of the faces. It was the kid who had been clinging to their parent's leg at the park, when they were giving Papyrus shit just for being a monster. 

Overall, it's been a shitty day so far. To top it off, it's Sans that's picking Frisk up today, and you're having a hard time facing him without feeling bad for dragging him away from his pity date (no matter how many times he's actually thanked you for it).

He waves at you, friendly as always, the same grin on his face that's always there. You smile and wave back. If nothing else, being friends with him has taught you to hide your discomfort in front of Frisk. 

"decent day today?" he asks, keeping conversation short. You've noticed that he's been doing that since the incident, as if he's suddenly uncomfortable as well.

"Some kids were picking on Frisk, but we got that stopped before it really even started," you say. "Oh, hey, I don't know if this bears any significance, but..." You turn Frisk so their back is to you, so they can't read your lips. "One of the kids was that one that we saw at the park, when the parents were getting too close to Paps."

Sans' expression darkens, but he brings it back to a lazy grin before the kid can notice. "noted," he says. 

He tips you another wave and turns, taking Frisk with him. Frisk breaks away from him to give you another hug before following Sans. Once they're in a fairly secluded area, you see Sans take Frisk's hand, and suddenly, they're gone. 

You turn and go back into the school, heading upstairs and mentally preparing yourself for whatever prep work you have to get done before you can go home. Mrs. Anderson is in the classroom, already packing up.

"Abandoning me again today?" you joke, walking back to your desk.

"No, no," she says with a laugh, "there's no prep work to be done. We finished it yesterday, remember?"

You think for a second. "Now that I think about it, there was a ton more to do yesterday than normal." You smile at her. "You're not purposely trying to give me a break, are you?"

"Not at all. These old bones are just too tired to stay today," she tells you. "Not to mention how tense you've been all day. Don't think I didn't notice. Is there something you need to talk about?"

"No," you say slowly. "There's just some things going on that I need to get taken care of before it gets any worse."

Mrs. Anderson nods knowingly, then slips on her backpack. "I'll be going now. Feel free to stay, but I think you should head home and figure out what to do about these things that are bothering you."

You smile at her. "Thanks. See you tomorrow, then."

"Tomorrow, dear."

You set to work gathering your own belongings, chancing another glance out the window. There's a group of people, all dressed almost the same in red jackets, hovering far enough from the window that their faces are hidden by distance alone, but close enough that you can see their heads turn to watch you walk. A shiver runs down your spine. Maybe you should have mentioned these people to Sans, too.

Not that Toriel would ever let him do anything about it.

You leave the classroom, locking it behind you, and head down to the main office to let them know that you're leaving. The secretary nods and lets you leave, making note of your departure time. Once you're actually outside though, you're filled with a mix of paranoia and fear. You've never gotten into your car so fast, nor locked its doors right away. You think for a moment.

Well, you had planned to talk to Papyrus and Undyne today. Maybe you could convince them to hang out right now, as long as they weren't working. You dial Undyne's number and hold the phone to your ear.

"Hey, loser!" she greets you. "I was just thinkin' about you. What's up?"

"Hi," you say. "Um, I was actually wondering if you and Papyrus wanted to hang out for a little while today? I just got off work, and there's, um, something I wanted to talk to you guys about." Undyne remains silent. "Because, uh, you're my best friends, and I trust you," you finish.

She laughs. "Of course you trust me! I'm the greatest best friend anyone could have! Papyrus was actually on his way to my house. If you're on the road, why don't you just come by?"

"Sounds good," you say. "I'm leaving the school now. I'll be there in... twenty minutes?" You start your car, holding the phone with your shoulder while you buckle your seatbelt. 

"Alright. Don't talk to me while you drive!" Undyne snorts. "See you in a few."

She hangs up before you can say goodbye, and you set your phone in the cupholder. When you check your rearview mirror, you freeze for a second. 

The group of people is right behind your car, red hoods up and masks depicting different monsters covering their faces. You recognize one mask as a Froggit.

You pull through the parking space (thankfully nobody was parked in front of you) and leave the lot as quickly as you can. You will yourself to get out of panic mode, taking a few deep, steadying breaths as you go down the road. You reach over and turn up the radio's volume a bit (maybe it'll drown out your thoughts) and don't stop until you reach Undyne's house. 

You see Papyrus' car already parked in one of the guest spaces, so you pull in right next to it and head up to the door of the town house. You knock twice before just opening the door and letting yourself in (your friends keep telling you that you're always welcome; you can't believe how trusting they are). 

"I'm here," you announce, slipping out of your shoes and leaving them by the door. You venture into the living area to see your friends on the couch, looking over at you and smiling.

"HELLO, HUMAN," Papyrus greets you. "I HAVE NOT SEEN MUCH OF YOU SINCE THE LAST TIME WE WENT OUT. HOW ARE YOU FEELING?"

"Feeling fine, Paps," you say. "It's good to see you, too."

"So you said that you have something to talk to your two best friends about?" Undyne prods, looking like an excited middle schooler. You smile, settling yourself on the couch next to Papyrus.

"Uh, yeah," you say. You thank the universe that you managed to gather your thoughts during the car ride. "Well, first, I want to apologize for the last time we went out. I know you guys were just trying to help me out with Sans and trying to have fun, and I overreacted when I thought everyone was staring at me. So I'm sorry for running out on you like that."

"You've apologized for that like, eight times, dude," Undyne says. "We already told you it's fine."

"I know, I just--"

"NOT ANOTHER WORD ABOUT IT," Papyrus says, patting your shoulder. "YOU ARE FORGIVEN."

You smile at them. You really couldn't have asked for better friends. "Okay, okay, so the second thing, then."

They look at you expectantly. You take a deep breath and look down at your lap.

"IthinkIlikeSans," you say quickly.

"What was that?" Undyne asks with an evil glint in her eye. She definitely heard you just fine.

"I think I like Sans," you repeat. Your face is starting to heat.

"WELL, WHO DOESN'T LIKE MY BROTHER? HE IS VERY COOL," Papyrus states matter-of-factly. He pauses. "DO NOT TELL HIM I SAID THAT."

"No, Paps, like... a romantic like," you say. Saying it like that makes it worse. You bury your face in your hands to try to hide how red it must be by now. You prepare yourself for laughter, or teasing, but nothing comes. You peek up at your friends. Undyne is giving you a weirdly soft smile, and Papyrus looks deep in thought.

"Well, tell me something I don't know," Undyne says. "I could tell you've got it bad for the little jerk."

"MY BROTHER IS NOT A JERK," Papyrus says, then turns back to you. "HUMAN, IF YOU LIKE HIM, WHY NOT TELL HIM? OR I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, COULD TELL HIM FOR YOU! I AM A MASTER OF ROMANTIC PURSUIT, AFTER ALL."

"Nonono, Papyrus, please don't," you plead.

"WHY NOT? IF HE RETURNS YOUR ROMANTIC FEELINGS, THEN HE COULD BECOME YOUR DATE FRIEND. IS THAT NOT YOU WANT?" 

You stare at him for a moment. "I--"

"That's something she and Sans have to talk about themselves," Undyne says. "It's hard to make a bond when there's another monster in the way."

That seems to placate Papyrus. He nods slowly, then smiles at you again. "WELL, IF HE DECIDES THAT HE WANTS TO BE YOUR DATE FRIEND, REST ASSURED THAT YOU HAVE MY APPROVAL, HUMAN."

"Thanks," you say quietly. 

"Okay, but seriously?" Undyne says again, her teasing tone returning. "Sans? He's so lazy and WEIRD. All he thinks about is science and ketchup."

"AND SLEEPING," Papyrus adds. 

"And sleeping," Undyne agrees. 

"AND HE DOES NOT COOK SPAGHETTI."

"And from what I hear, his room is a mess."

"HE HAS A SELF-SUSTAINING TRASH TORNADO THAT I CANNOT GET RID OF NO MATTER WHAT I DO."

"Guys, please," you plead, though you can't help but laugh a little. "It's just a stupid crush, alright? It's not like I'm about to run out and ask him to marry me."

God damn Papyrus and the stars in his eye sockets. He snatches your hands up into his. "IF YOU MARRIED MY BROTHER, YOU WOULD BE MY SISTER!"

"In law," the fish monster adds. "But oh my GOD! Imagine the children. Do you think they'd be skeletons or humans? Or some weird hybrid babies? They could be so COOL!"

"Guys," you whine, then dissolve into another fit of laughter. They laugh with you, and when you finally calm down and look up at them, they're both looking at you with a fond expression. Undyne ruffles your hair a little and Papyrus instantly moves in to smooth it out.

"ALRIGHT, now that that's out of the way, wanna watch a movie or something?" she suggests, picking up the remote. "We've still got some time before Alphys gets home."

"Sure," you say.

"I CAN MAKE SPAGHETTI," Papyrus offers.

"Maybe not yet. Alphys will be hungry when she gets back," Undyne says.

She flicks through the channels before settling on a showing of Snow White and the Huntsman. The three of you watch the movie in silence -- at least, until Undyne's phone starts ringing and she makes an ungodly screeching noise. Her expression softens when she looks at the name on her screen, and she answers.

"Hey, Toriel," she says, moving to stand up. She stops, looking over at you and Papyrus. "Yeah, I've got Paps and _____ with me... Hold on." She presses a button on the screen. "Okay, you're on."

" _Hello, everyone,_ " Toriel's voice says through the receiver. " _I trust you are all in a place where you can turn on the news?_ "

"Yeah," you say, suddenly fearing the worst. You flick over to the only reputable station and set down the remote, expecting to see your father's face on the screen.

It's worse. The screen shows a wide shot of the school, with nasty threats painted on the brick walls and signs haphazardly shoved into the ground. There's a target crudely painted over the window to your classroom in red paint. Pictures of people dressed in red shirts and jackets are flashed across the screen, all of them congregating below your window or in the parking lot dangerously close to where you had been parked, all of them wearing those crude monster masks.

" _Please come over immediately,_ " Toriel says. " _I need to speak with everyone about this._ "

"We'll be there soon," Undyne says, hanging up the phone. "You want me to ride with you, or do you just want to follow me and Paps?"

You mull this over for a second. "I'll just follow," you decide. 

"Suit yourself," she says quietly, shoving her wallet and phone into her pants pocket. Papyrus picks up his backpack and slings it over his shoulder, and you make sure to grab your purse on the way out.

Papyrus leads you from the town house, barely stopping long enough to let Undyne lock her door and send a text to Alphys. You climb into your car and roll the window down, looking out as Undyne's gaze lingers on you.

"You seem kind of spooked," she says, much quieter than normal. "You sure you don't want me to ride with you?"

You give her a wide grin. "You can't baby me forever," you tease.

She returns the grin and gets into Papyrus' car after that. 

The car ride over to Toriel's is (considering you're alone) uneventful, aside from the occasional panicked call from Papyrus when he realizes that you're not directly behind him. You pull up to the curb in front of Toriel's house and walk up to the door just as Papyrus is letting himself in.

Frisk meets you at the door, already in their pajams, and holding Flowey in his no longer pink pot. The flower gives you a weird look, like he wants to hiss at you like usual, but opts not to and gives you a creepy smile instead. It's progress. Frisk presses themself against you in an armless hug before scampering away to the kitchen table. You start to walk over as well, seeing as everyone is sitting there. Papyrus and Undyne both give you a knowing look as they take their seats, leaving the chair between Sans and Frisk as the only open one. You give them a hard glare as you sit down, defeated.

"you look tense," Sans whispers.

"No bones about it," you mutter back, watching him lurch forward a little bit as he bites back a laugh. You turn your attention to Toriel, who has her eyes fixed on the TV in the other room.

"Now that we are all here," she says slowly, as if she's picking her words very carefully, "I would like to hear everyone's thoughts on this matter. This is getting too close to the school for my liking."

"They do not seem like idle threats," Asgore says quietly. "They are too... detailed."

"Those people had been hovering around the school all day," you say, feeling everyone's eyes turn to you. "Every time I looked out the window, there were at least three there, looking up into the classroom."

"did you make out any faces?" Sans asks. If you were tense before, then that makes him completely rigid.

"No." You shake your head. "They were all wearing those masks. But it was still enough to creep me out."

"Was it only outside of the window?" Asgore asks. He's straightened in his chair and is looking down at you in a very kingly manner. 

"When I got in my car to leave, I called Undyne," you go on. "When I got off the phone with her so that I could drive to her house, I looked in my rearview mirror and they were right behind my car. Like, within arm's length, but I just pulled through and left."

Toriel sucks in a breath before looking over at Asgore. Before either of them can say anything, Undyne slams a hand down on the table.

"ERGH! This is ridiculous!" she growls. "If we could just see their faces, we could just end this! Stop their little cult before it really starts!"

"If we knew what they were after, then this would be much easier to begin thinking about," the king says, slouching a little again and taking a sip of his tea.

"I have a fair guess on what they want," you say, a little bitter. "Humans are notorious for... hating change, I guess. And anything that's different, even if it's just another human with a different skin color or different beliefs. There's been entire wars, just because humans don't like something about someone else. I mean, I think that applies to the war that pushed monsters Underground in the first place." You take a deep breath, trying to ignore how tense everyone just got. "My point is, as welcoming as they may have been in the very beginning, you've been on the surface for a little over four months. People are bound to want to push you guys away again, just because they're uncomfortable."

"do you feel that way?" Sans asks, barely audible. You're sure that you're the only one who heard him. Before you can say anything, Toriel snorts, holding her paw over her mouth.

"I am sorry, my child," she says between short laughs. "I do not mean to laugh. This is very serious. Oh my." She shakes her head and clears her throat, lowering her paw. "It is just... You speak as if you are not a human. Frisk does the same."

You look back down at the table. "I-it's not that," you say, a little embarrassed. "I just don't share the same ideals as a lot of other humans, is all. I'm all for you guys being on the surface. I'm pissed at the human race for pushing you under in the first place. Nobody deserves to be left out just because they're... different."

Frisk leans into your side and hugs you. You wrap one arm around them and scoot your chair back a little to let them climb into your lap. They settle down facing you, laying their cheek on your shoulder. 

"I am glad you were the one assigned to Frisk," Toriel says. 

You smile at her and nod.

"S-sorry I'm late!" You look over to see Alphys bustling into the kitchen. "Undyne t-texted me and I-I came as soon as I could."

Undyne disappears and returns with another chair for Alphys, setting it at the empty spot next to her. 

"I-I think that she's right," the scientist goes on, pushing her glasses up. "H-humans have always been a-a little, um, abrasive. I d-don't doubt that they'd, uh, attack the school."

"Wouldn't be the first time in human history," you agree.

"SURELY HUMANS WOULDN'T DO SOMETHING THAT DRASTIC?" Papyrus asks nervously.

"Papyrus, not all humans are that awful," you say. "Just... These ones that we're dealing with might be. We have to be prepared for the possibility."

"W-which is why I recruited some, uh, h-help. For installing a special, ah, security s-system." 

"help?" Sans echoes, cringing a little.

Alphys nods with a sheepish grin. Papyrus' face lights up, and he stands quickly as the door opens.

"Darlings! I've arrived!" a slightly robotic voice calls from the front of the house.

"I'LL GO GET HIM," Papyrus yells quickly, bolting away from the table.

"Who's that?" you whisper to Sans, leaning over a little as Frisk squirms out of your grip to follow the tall skeleton.

He doesn't get much of a chance to answer you. Within seconds, standing before you is a glossy black, pink, and silver robot grinning down at you. 

"Such a cute human," he says dramatically. "It is a pleasure to make your aquaintance."

Sans gives you a sideways glance. He speaks in a quiet voice that more than expresses his distaste.

" _mettaton._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT?! PLOT?!?!?!?!  
> What fresh hell is this?!  
> Come explain what a plot line is to me on my [tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com).  
> Did everyone forget that I'm your boss? Don't forget. I'm still your boss.  
> Meeko, CEO of Skelestorm City.  
> Because, you know, this story is a skeleton-based shit storm.  
> (Also holy shit wow you guys are so nice and I love you <3)


	11. Death by Glamour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we implement our new security system

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting from my phone today. If the formatting is a bit wonky, I'm sorry! I'll double check it from my laptop when I get home.  
>  **Edit:** Everything's good to go. I hate posting from my phone!

You find yourself being stared in the eye by a robot and his pink irises, a little too close for comfort. He's about three inches away from your face, studying you. You blink, and you find yourself being yanked to your feet and spun in a circle, him still examining you.

"You have so much potential, darling, and I can help you reach it," he purrs. Literally purrs. Beyond his voice, you can here the mechanical whirring inside of him change with his inflections. 

"M-mettaton, that's not what w-we're here for," Alphys politely reminds him. 

Mettaton keeps hold of your arm and huffs, flicking strands of hair out of his eyes. They fall neatly back over the right half of his face. "You're right. I'll address your wardrobe later. For now, I have some wonderful ideas for the school's security system, my dear queen." He turns his attention to Toriel, giving a large grin. "For example, what better way to deter unwanted guests than with explosive--"

"No explosives," Toriel says, voice stern. "Nothing that may hurt the children or anyone else. We want a peaceful end to this. I only need to monitor the situation."

Mettaton's grin remains, but he looks slightly more nervous. "Right. Well, we could just do a laser grid--"

He's stopped short by Toriel's firm glare, her arms crossing over her chest. She raises a brow at him, and he lets out a short, slightly hysterical laugh.

"I was only joking," he says, completely unconvincing. Suddenly, he drops your arm and poses dramatically. "Alphys and I have been working on something wonderful! Haven't we, dear?"

"W-we have."

"And it would be absolutely perfect for  _ only monitoring the situation _ . Right, dear?"

"A-absolutely."

Alphys rummages through her bag before pulling out what looks like a shoebox, a note scribbled on it with Sharpie that's unreadable from your position across the table. Inside are small black orbs, smaller than the palm of your hand. You could easily hold three or four of them with your fist closed. She pushes the box towards Toriel and Asgore. 

"T-they're cameras. They run on the same k-kind of battery as Mettaton, so they won't r-run out of power, and, uh, I can s-set them up to send their feed directly h-here," she explains. "They could easily b-be hidden from sight. T-the school w-would never notice them."

"We set them up, we turn them on, we set up a monitor here for you, and your surveillance of the school's perimeter is all set!" Mettaton says. 

"Inside the school, as well," Toriel says after a moment of thought. You can see her starting to flush under her fur. "I cannot justify not keeping tabs on the inside of the school. If someone that means harm gets in, there would be no way for us to know where to look.”

"Tori," Asgore says softly, touching her shoulder lightly.

"I-I know I am asking for a lot," she goes on, looking down. "And that it is not entirely within human law. But I assure you that anything for the safety of my children is worth the risk."

"The school has a security system in place. If anyone even gets too close to the doors, it'll go off, and the police station isn't too far away," you say.

"HUMAN, YOU'RE CONDONING THIS?" Papyrus asks in awe. You nod.

"Of course she is," Undyne says. "It's for Frisk's safety, and hers, too!"

"And the rest of the school's," you reason. "I may be the one they seem to be after, but that doesn't make the rest of the school safe."

"There are a lot of children we are helping by doing this," Toriel agrees. 

"I-I can disarm security systems f-from my computer," Alphys chimes in, looking fairly determined. "I would j-just have to go back to m-my lab."

"And I know how to set them up," Mettaton says. 

"I know the school like the back of my hand," you say quietly. "I think I should go, too."

"if you go, i go," Sans says. "to make sure everything goes ok."

You stare at him for a second and nod. He has a hard glare fixed in the robot’s direction.

"We need to find a way to unlock the doors," Mettaton says. "And a way to get up to the roof of the building."

You think for a moment. "As far as opening doors goes, I know someone," you say. "Two someones, actually. They could really help us out."

"Who would that be?" Toriel asks. 

"A couple of friends of mine. We've been friends for a while, and this kind of thing isn't... exactly out of their realm of comfort," you say. "I can call them."

"Please do, darling," Mettaton says.

You pull out your phone and dial Nolan. You put the phone on speaker while it rings, and thankfully, he answers.

" _ Hey babe! Been a little while since I heard from ya _ ," he says. " _ Don't tell me you're only calling for a favor _ ." 

"I am, actually," you say. "Not just for me, though. For the monster monarchy."

Toriel gives you an amused look. You grin sheepishly.

" _ I'm listening. So is Ken, she's here, too. _ "

" _ Hi, sweetie! _ " Kendra's voice shouts from what sounds like across the room.

"We need to set up a secret security system in the school," you tell them. "The thing is, we need a couple of, uh, specialists. In getting into places after hours."

Nolan laughs a long, rich laugh.

" _ Oh, baby, you're speakin' my language! I'm so ready to make bad decisions with you again. We're in _ ."

"Please come to my house, then, so that I can meet you," Toriel says, approaching you. 

She gives the directions to her house, and Nolan says they'll be there in a jiff, hanging up suddenly. 

"Now we wait," you say.

"Monster monarchy?" she echoes, giving you the same amused look she gave you a moment ago.

"That's what they call you and Asgore," you explain. "That way, they know how important this is."

The group sits mostly in silence as you wait for Nolan and Kendra to arrive, only broken by Flowey's complaints and short titters of laughter when Sans responds with a joke (much to Flowey's displeasure). After nearly half an hour, there's a knock on the door. You move to answer it. Clad in mostly black outfits are your friends, grinning at you. Kendra hands you one of your tote bags that you know she never borrowed.

"Did you guys--" you start incredulously.

"Uh, if you'd give me a key to your apartment, I wouldn't have to break in to get your breaking-in clothes," Nolan says. "Don't worry, I fed the cat. And locked the door behind myself."

You take the bag and shake your head, leading them into the dining room. Kendra looks around with a big grin, then elbows you in the side and leans into your ear.

"You didn't tell me the skelebabe was here," she whispers teasingly.

"He's coming with," you reply. 

Her grin widens and she moves over to the table, where Nolan is stooped in a low bow with the back of Toriel's paw pressed to his lips. Asgore looks slightly uncomfortable.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, my queen," he says. You cringe; he sounds just like Mettaton.

"Quit being dramatic," Kendra says, swatting his arm. "But it is nice to finally meet you, your majesty."

"It is wonderful to meet you as well," Toriel replies with a laugh in her voice. "Any friend of _____'s is a friend of ours. Though please, call me Toriel. There is no need for formality."

"Ugh,  _ and _ you're a total sweetheart. Monsters lucked out to have you," Nolan groans, then steps away from her and looks at you. "Babe. Go change. We have a school to break into."

Frisk jumps up and tugs on your hand, leading you over to the stairwell. They run back for Flowey once he hisses in protest ("Don't leave me here alone!"), then they head upstairs, looking over their shoulder to make sure that you're following. There's five doors up here -- you assume that four of them have to be bedrooms. One has a sign that has Frisk's name written on it in crayon, as well as pictures of all of the monsters you spend your time with. They must have made it themself. They lead you to the door nearest theirs and open it. It's a guest room, with plush carpets and a well-made quilt on top of the queen bed. 

*" _ You can change here! _ " they sign with one hand, balancing Flowey 

" _ Thanks _ ," you sign back, smiling at them. 

They close the door behind themself when they leave, letting you have the privacy to change. You open up the bag and look inside. Yup, pretty much what you expected. There's a pair of black leggings, a plain black t-shirt, and a -- you guessed it! -- black zip-up hoodie that you haven't dug out of your closet for a long while. You get changed, thankful for the black shoes you wore today, and stuff your clothes into the bag. You head downstairs, where you see something a little scary.

Undyne is whispering something to Nolan while Sans has his back turned, attending to Frisk. Nolan looks at you and his grin widens. You glare at him and clear your throat. 

"Are we ready?" you ask. "I'd like to get this over with."

"Alphys already left for her lab," Kendra says, zipping up your jacket for you. "We're good to go when you are."

You look out the window. It's getting pretty dark, and by the time you get to the school, you know it'll be empty. You gesture to the door and look over at Sans. He nods.

“We'll keep in touch,” Mettaton says, touching Toriel's shoulder lightly. She nods, but says nothing. He picks up the box of cameras from the table and walks to the door, stopping briefly to pat Papyrus’ arm as well. 

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Nolan says, stretching his arms over his head and letting them fall to his sides. 

You open the door and step out into the cool night air. The sun has completely disappeared behind the horizon, and the moon looms overhead. You barely listen while Kendra insists that you all just take her car (it has the most room), climbing into the back of it beside Sans. Nolan takes your other side, and Mettaton sits in the front passenger seat, placing the box gingerly on his lap. 

The ride to the school is slightly cramped and filled with Kendra’s taste in music. Unlike you, she’s not afraid to play it loudly in front of strangers, but she has the good sense to turn it off before you pull into the school’s parking lot. Thankfully, there isn’t much traffic, and the only other person on the road comes by after the black car’s headlights are shut off. 

“Not scaling the outside of this bad boy,” Nolan says, pulling a small box from his hoodie pocket. “Get that security system off, and I’ll get this open.”

A quiet ringing sound emanates from Mettaton’s chest, and he shifts uncomfortably before speaking. “Alphys, I do hate when you call like this.”

“ _ S-sorry, Mettaton, _ ” her voice says, coming from his speaker. “ _ I'm going to t-turn off the security system. _ ” You hear typing in the background, then a satisfied sigh. “ _ There! You should be able to get in now. _ ”

Nolan cracks open his box, revealing a set of lockpicks. He moves slowly towards the door, crouching in front of it and getting to work when no alarms go off. It only takes him a few minutes (during which you receive quite a few questioning glances from Sans), but soon enough, he steps back and gives you a triumphant look.

“After you, m’lady,” he says, opening the door and gesturing for you to go in. 

You flick your hood over your head and move past him and into the building. Though you've been in this entrance countless times before, and you could probably draw a picture from memory, it's still a bit creepy in the dark. Your footsteps echo off of the linoleum floor and the metal lockers. Having it be completely void of small, screaming children is very unsettling. 

“This is creepy,” Kendra whispers, turning on her phone's flashlight and walking ahead of you. 

“It's cool,” Nolan says, falling into step with her, Mettaton right as his side. 

“We should set them up alongside the cameras they already have in place,” the robot suggests, “then put extra around Frisk's classroom.”

The three of them move ahead, leaving you far behind as Mettaton stretches his arm to attach the small orbs to the camera mounts that the school already has in place. They're chattering excitedly, having a good old time, while you feel yourself tense up. 

“you ok?”

Your hand flies over your heart, and you shoot a glare back at Sans. “Don't sneak up on me like that,” you scold. 

He shrugs, grinning like he's amused. “sorry. didn't know you were spooked by skeletons.”

“Only when they sneak up on me in a creepy school,” you huff. “Yes, I'm okay. A little nervous.” 

His grin falters a little, and he pats your arm. “you're ok.”

You nod. The two of you walk in silence until you reach the turn in the hallway that separates the first grade classrooms from the second grade. In the corner is the main office. The others are waiting at the door.

“Where's your room?” Nolan asks.

“Upstairs,” you say, walking around the corner and opening the door to the stairwell. 

“Lead the way,” he says.

You move to start up the stairs, your friends close behind you. You pause at the second floor landing so Mettaton can install another camera before you open another door. This hallway, the one you’re so intimately acquainted with, feels a little less safe than the floor below. You shudder. Still, you push on, leading the others to your classroom just a bit further down. 

“Here we are,” you breathe.

Mettaton places multiple cameras facing away from the classroom, and one facing the door. He backs away as you fish your keys from your pocket, intending to unlock the door. As your fingers brush the doorknob, the door moves. The telltale creak fills the otherwise still air.

“Sweet, let’s go,” Nolan says.

“No, no, wait,” you whisper, putting a hand on his chest to stop him. “Something’s not right. I know for a fact that I locked the classroom when I left today, and that was after the janitor already went in there.”

“let me look,” Sans says, lightly pushing you away. You stare at him incredulously. You have a bad, bad feeling about this. He shakes his head and gives you a grin that you know is fake. “this is why i’m here,” he reminds you. 

“I know, but--”

“stay back for a sec,” he mutters, pushing you back a little more and opening the door. He peers inside. Freezes. Motions to Mettaton. Mettaton looks inside. Freezes. 

“What’s going on?” you ask. Everyone is looking inside, decidedly blocking your view. You tug on Kendra’s sleeve. “Hey, Ken, what is it?”

“Hold on, sweetie,” she says in what Nolan calls her mom voice. She has a bad habit of babying you, and right now, it’s making your bad feeling that much worse.

“Let me see what’s going on with my classroom,” you say a little more forcefully. This time, Kendra looks at you. Her gaze is… sympathetic, almost. You watch Sans move inside, followed closely by Mettaton. 

“keep her out,” Sans says as he moves, touching Nolan’s arm. Nolan nods, and stands in the doorway once the two monsters head in.

“Sans,” you call after him, allowing your irritation to seep into your voice. “What is going  _ on _ ?” 

He doesn’t answer. Kendra runs her fingers through your hair, her nails lightly brushing over your scalp, in a way that she knows usually calms you. Nolan looks over his shoulder, relaxing his stance a little bit. You frown. Whatever it is, they think you can’t handle it, but it has to do with  _ your _ classroom. Even if they hide it from you tonight, you’ll see it in the morning when you come in for work. 

“Let me look,” you say, moving over to Nolan and doing your best to push him aside. You catch him off guard long enough to squeeze in past his side, though he does grab hold of your waist and stop you -- but not before you’ve taken in your surroundings.

Though it’s dark, you can see the layout of the classroom just fine. All of the kids’ desks are in order and exactly where they should be. You double check Frisk’s. It looks fine. So does Mrs. Anderson’s. One of the windows in the back is open, though, and the shade is broken. That’s definitely not normal. You look over to the back of the room, where your desk is, and see Sans and Mettaton looking at you. Mettaton looks utterly mortified, and Sans’ eye sockets are completely void of light, his grin replaced by a nervous frown.

“uh, maybe you should look,” he says quietly. 

Nolan lets you go, and you walk over to them. Everything that was on top of your desk or in your drawers is now on the ground, scattered and ruined. You see scratches over the top of your desk, vaguely taking the shape of crude letters that you can’t read from your position. You look back up to Sans, you hand hovering over your mouth. You feel like you could vomit. You’re sure that you know what the desk now says.

“The staff comes in before the children, do they not?” Mettaton asks quietly, touching your shoulder. You nod. 

“says ‘monster fucker’,” Sans tells you, his voice filled with venom. “they really can’t come up with a better insult, huh?”

Called it.

“Guess not,” you say, barely able to find your voice. You look around, searching for a photo frame that you know for a fact was on your desk. Suddenly frantic, you move around to the other side, pushing past Sans in your search. You kneel, pushing aside papers and pulling open drawers.

With shaky hands, you pull a dark rectangle from the very back of the bottom drawer. There’s a sticky note on it, reading “ _ Looked important _ ” in rushed handwriting, signed with a small doodle of a Froggit face. You open it, and there’s the pictures you were looking for. On one side, it’s you and your parents. On the other, it’s you with Nolan and Kendra at orientation. You heave a sigh of relief.

“What’s that, dear?” Mettaton asks. You show him, and he seems to pay special attention to the sticky note. 

“It  _ is _ important to me,” you say. “If they ruined everything else, why would they..?” You shake your head. “A Froggit, huh? I only saw one Froggit mask…”

And the wearer had been standing behind your car, tilting their head at you as they stood at the front of a small pack of other masked people. 

“Mob mentality doesn’t affect everyone,” Nolan says. “They’re still people.”

“People who hate monsters,” Kendra adds quietly. “Even if this Froggit masked person saved the picture, they’re still part of the cult. They still probably hate monsters.”

“A sad truth,” Mettaton says.

“put it back where you found it,” Sans says. “even if you want to save froggit face’s note, you’re going to have to pretend to be just as surprised and scared in the morning.”

You nod and carefully place the photo in the drawer again, shutting it tightly. Sans’ fingertips ghost across your arm as you stand in what you assume is a reassuring gesture. You give him a small smile. 

“The cameras are installed and turned on. We should go,” Mettaton says gently. You walk from the room, your throat a little tight, and accept Kendra's hand as she holds it out to you. She twines her fingers with yours and squeezes. 

You squeeze back. 

You do your best to pull yourself together on the way back to Toriel’s house. You excuse yourself and head home as soon as she'll allow you, which is after you explain everything. She hugs you for a long moment and asks if you want someone to ride home with you. You tell her you'll be okay, and for the most part, you are. You just need to wrap your head around it. 

The next morning, you wake to a phone call from Mrs. Anderson. She describes the horror of your desk in detail and says that maybe you should stay home today. She promises to clean it up for you. You ask her to find the photos, and when she confirms their safety, you agree. You put in for a sick day and call Toriel to let her know. She keeps Frisk home, as well. 

You figure that you'll need the extra day to figure things out, because tomorrow, you'll have a whole new hell to deal with. 

At least you can prepare for that one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a really hard time staying motivated on this one, so I know it's probably really awkwardly written. Sorry!  
> I'm never giving you guys a link to my [tumblr](HTTP://MeekoMyachi.tumblr.com) ever again. You should know what it is by now.  
> -cough-


	12. Caged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we deal with some [screaming sea lions](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A2KyY_HSIRg)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a huuuuge shout out to my best bro/unofficial beta, Jessica. She forces me into skype calls and makes me screen share to make sure that I'm writing and not dicking around. Without her, I wouldn't be on track at all.  
> It's thanks to her that you guys get to see this shit storm. Now, without further ado... happy reading!

**Nolan (3:16 AM): So you finally admitted that you like Sans**

**Nolan (3:16 AM): BOUT DAMN TIME. WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME.**

You groan and ignore the fact that the texts woke you up at such an ungodly morning hour (even if you  _ did _ manage to go back to sleep), as well as the fact that it was very obviously Undyne that told him. You glare at the phone, noting that it is now much past time for you to get up and get ready for work. You have about half an hour to shower, get dressed, and leave. 

You opt to just wash your hair and put on something comfortable. After all, today’s going to be difficult to deal with, and you’d prefer not to be in stiff clothing. One of your looser dresses and a pair of well-loved flats ought to do the trick. You eye your coffee pot and decide that grabbing a cup on the way would save more time. Once your purse is slung over your shoulder and your cat is fed, you’re on your way.

You stop at a coffee shop on the way, but still somehow end up early. It’s with great hesitation and a lot of self-motivating that you step into the classroom, expecting to see the large, ugly letters etched into your wooden desk. You hold your breath and head straight back, walking quickly to get it over with. When you look down at the surface, surprisingly, nothing is there.

“We had to get it replaced.” You jump and look behind you. Mrs. Anderson is sitting at her own desk, smiling at you. “It’s a good thing that the school was planning on replacing some of the desks anyhow. That incident just got you bumped to the top of the list.”

“I’m glad,” you breathe, and you really are relieved. It would be difficult to explain to a group of third graders what a “monster fucker” is. You take the stack of stick-on name tags that are on your desk and start writing one child’s name on each one.

She just continues smiling and leans back in her chair a little bit. “Are you ready for today?”

You heave a sigh. Oh, right, today’s special hell. “As I’ll ever be,” you tell her honestly.

She laughs a short laugh. “Oh, dear, it’s not as bad as you would think.”

“You’ve also done this a million times,” you argue, unable to stop the smile crossing your face. It’s impossible to be in a bad mood around this woman. “This is my first time.”

“It’s not as bad as you would think,” she repeats, and you can tell that she means it. “The rest of the third grade classes will be with us. That’s quite a few teachers and student teachers to help out.”

“I know,” you say. “Then whatever parents come along.” You wave the list of parent names as you speak, then get to work making name tags for them as well. 

Her smile falters a little. “Um, about that, dear--”

She’s cut off by students walking in, a couple of them with their parents. You recognize a few of them as ones that gave Undyne an especially hard time. Behind them, once again given a wide berth, walks in Frisk and Sans.

Of course. Of course Sans is here. Why wouldn’t he be? You  _ did _ make him a name tag.

He glances back at you and gives you a wave and a slow wink. You raise your hand in greeting. You watch his eyelights flick down to the surface and back up to your face. He’s concerned. You give him a smile and a small nod, and that seems to placate him. 

Mrs. Anderson gestures for you to head to the front of the room as the class fills up and the clock ticks closer to the start of school. You take your place in front of the white board and wait for her to start speaking. The bell rings, and she clears her throat. Everyone’s eyes are on her.

“Good morning, everyone,” she starts, and your hands begin to move with her words. “I hope everyone is excited for what we have in store today.”

As if to punctuate her statement, the children start chattering amongst themselves, picking up in volume quickly. When Mrs. Anderson raises a hand and clears her throat again, they silence themselves immediately.

“I’ve split everyone up into groups to walk around in, so please listen closely. Will all of the chaperones please come up front?”

The parents (and Sans) stand and awkwardly position themselves at the front of the room. Sans slides in comfortably next to you, nudging you with his shoulder. Mrs. Anderson goes through the groups, and each of the kids are assigned to one of the parents. By the time she gets down to Sans, one of the parents speaks up. 

“Are you sure it’s safe to trust children to a monster?”

There’s venom in his voice, and you can feel Sans tense. Mrs. Anderson levels a hard glare at the offending human. 

“It is  _ perfectly _ safe,” she says to him. “Our classroom helper will be in that group as well. Now, as I was saying--”

“Um, but isn’t the school being targeted by that cult now that monsters have been in it?” another parent asks meekly. She seems genuinely concerned, not just fueled by hate.

Mrs. Anderson sighs as murmurs of agreement erupt in the remaining human parents. She looks at you and Sans briefly before holding her hand up again.

“If it will ease everyone’s minds, then the only child to go with Sans will be Frisk, as he’s their caretaker,” she says. “Give me a moment to reassign the remaining children.”

If it had been anyone else to make that decision, you would have been fuming, but, considering it was Mrs. Anderson, you can’t really find any bad thoughts to think. You know that she’s just trying to keep the classroom calm and organized. Besides, you don’t think it would be too bad of an idea to keep the other children away from you and Frisk. 

Just in case.

Mrs. Anderson voices the new assignments, and while you’re still mentally calling bullshit as well as passing out the name tags you put together, the classroom seems to return to a completely orderly state (though some children are grumbling about not being allowed to hang out with the “cool skeleton monster”). Sans seems to relax, though you’re sure that he’s forcing himself to. He must be pretty peeved about it, as well. 

“Well, we should get to the buses, shouldn’t we?” the teacher says, her annoyance still evident in her voice. “Everyone, make sure you have your name tags stuck to your shirt.”

You peel your own “HELLO, MY NAME IS” name tag from its paper and stick it on the left side of your chest. Sans nudges you and gives you a grin. He’s got his stuck to his t-shirt, and seems rather pleased with himself. You resist teasing him about being an active parent.

The children group up with their chaperones, and that includes you receiving a hurried hug from Frisk. They have their name tag stuck to the center of their chest, rather obnoxiously so, and they seem just as pleased as Sans, if not more. You pat their head and rest a hand on their shoulder, keeping them close, as has become habit during school. The class forms a haphazard line (you agree to bring up the rear, like you normally do) and heads down to the bus loop. Four buses wait, and you see most of the other third grade classes already boarding them. You figure that each bus carries one big class, and one of them is carrying the two smaller classes. 

“Start at the back of the bus and work your way up,” Mrs. Anderson instructs, then turns to you with a quieter voice. “I’d like you three to be in the very back, if possible. I’ll be in the front of the bus, and I need you to be back there to help keep an eye on the children.”

“Of course,” you say, leading Frisk gently to the bus. You usher Sans on after them before following yourself, taking the small, one-person seat in the bac. Frisk demands to sit by the window on the seat across the small aisle from you, leaving Sans more or less right next to you.

The child gives you a thumbs up.

You wonder, a little bitterly, if Papyrus or Undyne said anything to them.

The rest of the children file onto the bus, and you help with the headcount to make sure that everyone is there. You mentally stow away the number of people on the bus, excluding you and Mrs. Anderson, so that you can make sure that everyone makes it back on before you leave to head back to the school at the end of the day. Afterwards, you settle back into your seat and finally text Nolan back.

**You (8:24 AM): You know me well enough that you shouldn’t be surprised.**

Satisfied, you turn your attention to Sans as the bus starts moving. If you didn’t know him as well as you do, you would think that he were completely calm; however, the brightness of the pinpricks of light in his eye sockets betrays his excitement.

“You look more excited than Frisk does,” you tease, elbowing him. 

“might be,” he admits. “they’ve been to a zoo before. i haven’t.”

“Nothing like that in the Underground?”

“we didn’t exactly have many wild animals like you guys do,” he tells you. 

“Fair point,” you concede. “I think you’ll find at least one animal you really like.”

He hums, then turns his gaze to you. “hopefully.” 

The rest of the bus ride goes by in a special kind of silence that can only fall over a bus full of third graders; you spend your time reminding kids to stay in their seats and  _ no it is not polite to stick your finger in the skeleton’s eye socket even if he says it’s okay _ . It’s a bit tiring to say the least, and Sans takes it upon himself to make the ride as hellish for you as possible. Before you know it, the kid in front of him has almost his whole hand inside the skeleton’s eye socket, and no matter how many times you remind him that he shouldn’t be doing that, Sans joins in on the kid’s whining (“but i said it was ok!”), laughing at you all the while.

You’re questioning his ability to care for a small child when he seems to act so much like one himself. Once or twice, you catch Frisk smacking his arm and scolding him via sign language. 

Thankfully, the zoo isn’t too far of a drive. Before you know it, the children are being ushered from the bus, and you’re following Frisk down the steps and up to the zoo’s gate. You ensure that the class splits into the appropriate groups, and that you have each parent’s phone number and that they have yours and Mrs. Anderson’s, as well. Once the tickets are handed out and Mrs. Anderson gives her speech about the schedule (another sheet of paper that you pass out to each chaperone), everyone parts ways.

Sans is practically vibrating with excitement, completely unaware of the strange looks he’s receiving. 

“Well, we’ve got quite a bit of free time before we have to meet the class for lunch,” you say to the duo left with you, signing as well. “What do you want to go see first?”

Sans looks at Frisk, who just shrugs and points at a random place on the small map that was given to you at the ticket gate. Elephants. You can get behind that.

“Elephants it is,” you say. “Sans, have you ever seen an elephant?”

“nope.” 

You smile. If his grin tells you anything, it’s that he can’t wait to get moving. You waste no time complying. 

The zoo is crowded, and it turns out that it’s not just your school taking a field trip today. It’s not a particularly hot day for April, but the sun is out and the forecast has been good for the past few weeks. It’s ideal zoo-going weather. However, that means a rather uncomfortable situation for you. You’re almost glad that you don’t have to wrangle four or five other kids; it’s hard enough to keep track of Sans and Frisk in the masses of people that you have to squeeze through. Eventually, you find yourself (with your companions, thankfully, at your side) at the fence overlooking the elephant enclosure. There are two that you can see, one much larger than the other. The large one waves its trunk around and twitches its large ears, and the small one lets out a small noise as they step into the habitat’s pond.

Sans seems a little less excited, and he looks at you with mild concern.

“are they all caged up like this?” he asks.

You nod. “It’s for their safety and ours,” you tell him. “Some of the animals are dangerous, and some humans make really stupid decisions. They’re well taken care of, though, I promise.”

He huffs, but doesn’t respond. He places his hands on the railing and leans over a little bit to get a better view. 

“they’re pretty big,” he says. 

“There’s animals taller than them,” you tell him.

He looks back up at you, and the excitement is back in his eye sockets. “really?” 

“Really,” you tell him. You sign quickly to Frisk to let them know that you’re moving on, and you thank the universe that the giraffes are close by. 

This enclosure doesn’t have you positioned too far above the giraffes, so you get the pleasure of seeing Sans crane his neck way back to look all the way up at the one investigating the people. It looks at him with indifference and turns to pull some leaves off of a tree.

“it’s amazing. how does its heart get blood all the way up there?” he turns to look at you again. “they have hearts and blood like humans do, right?”

You nod, giving him a patient smile. It’s an understandable question, considering how different one monster can be from their neighbor. 

“gravity must be working against it,” he goes on, almost as fast as Alphys when she talks about her favorite anime, “so that heart has to be working really hard. that’s so cool.”

“It does work hard,” you say. “Their hearts can weigh up to twenty-six pounds, you know.”

He looks at you again, wonder written all over his face. “what else do you know about them?”

You point at the information plaque. “Just what’s written here.”

A light blue tinge crosses his face as he registers what you’re pointing at. He grins sheepishly and starts reading it, humming and nodding and probably etching every bit of information into his memory forever. 

It’s kind of cute when he gets all sciency.

The morning continues in much of the same way, with Sans trying to learn everything he can about each animal and marveling at how far away their native homes are. He decides that his favorite is the male lion lying lazily in the sun on top of a rock in his enclosure, soaking in all of the rays and drifting slowly to sleep. 

“i like the way he lives his life,” he says. “i wish i could live like that.”

*” _ You  _ do _ live like that! _ ” Frisk signs, laughing a little. “ _ All you do is sleep! _ ”

“and eat,” he adds with a wink.

The child shakes their head and points at the time on their phone (which they’re not technically supposed to have with them, but who are you to tell them no?). It’s about time to meet the rest of the class for lunch, so you tell Sans that you’ll show him some of the arctic animals after you eat. You meet the class at the specified food court (which is already mostly full, but you manage to snag a table) and go up to the counter to order food. You return with what your group asked for, setting the hot dogs down in front of them. Sans wastes no time in picking his up and making eye (socket???) contact with one of the Frisk’s classmates that’s sitting at another table and taking a bite out of it.

The kid gasps when Sans doesn’t chew or anything of the sort; he just opens his jaw again to show that it’s empty. The parent at the table sneers and makes a disgusted sound, which makes Sans clamp his jaw shut and give them a shit eating grin while the kid starts on how cool it is to see a skeleton eat because  _ how did he do that _ ?

All of the parents seem disgusted. Several bystanders are staring. You do your best to keep your mouth shut and eat your hotdog. Frisk gives you a thumbs up, and you’re sure that it’s meant to be reassuring. You smile.

You lead them away as quickly as you can once Mrs. Anderson gives the go ahead, speaking loudly about how you’re really excited to see the penguins. Sans asks you what a penguin is.

He finds out pretty quickly. He’s not exactly enamored by them, but he decides that it’s interesting that they can’t fly like every other bird he’s ever seen. He seems to like the polar bears, though. Overall, his excitement seems to be waning, and you’re sure you know why -- suddenly, there’s a shit ton of people staring at the three of you and whispering, most of their eyes locked on Sans. He’s uncomfortable, and you know it. 

A man in a god-awful Hawaiian shirt (they look much better on Asgore, thank you very much) approaches Sans, camera at the ready. “Hey, um, I’ve never seen a skeleton monster before,” he says. “Do you mind if I take a picture?”

Sans shrugs and agrees to one picture, and only one. Before you know it, more people are crowding around him, intent on doing the same thing, as if they all wanted to but were too scared to ask. The skeleton, while normally calm and collected and able to weasel out of any situation, seems a little lost. It really is hard for monsters to say no to humans without being accused of something awful.

Frisk tugs at the hem of your dress and jerks their thumb back at Sans. Even without sign language, you know what they want you to do. That’s fine. This is making you a bit upset, anyways. You step carefully in front of Sans, blocking most of the cameras, bringing out groans of protest from several of the people.

“I realize we’re at a zoo,” you say, using your best impression of Toriel’s mom voice, “but he is  _ not _ an exhibit. Please stop.”

Most of the people nod and mutter apologies, shuffling away but seeming more or less content. A few send glares in your direction, and you swear that you can hear one have the audacity to call you by your favorite insult. You swallow the words that are forming in your throat and look back at Sans, who seems relieved. 

“thanks,” he mutters. “i owe ya, kid.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you say. “I just wanted to show you the sea lions.”

The grin returns to his face when you smile at him, and he follows you to the next exhibit. 

Though he’s a little disappointed that sea lions are not lions adapted for sea life. Frisk makes an offhand comment about how sea lions spend their days rolling around on the ground and screaming, and how that seems a little more like how Sans spends his time. They can’t dodge the noogie that the skeleton gives them. 

You receive a quick text from one of the other parents, letting you know that it’s time to leave. Looking at the time, you’re a bit surprised that the day went by so fast, but you aren’t in the least bit disappointed. 

“We gotta leave,” you tell Sans, signing it to Frisk as well. He seems a little more disappointed than the child does, but you decide not to tease him about it. 

“maybe we should bring paps sometime,” he says as you go to the buses.

You nod in agreement, and Frisk seems excited by the idea as well. 

“Maybe later this summer,” you suggest, and Sans nods as well.

The bus ride home is much like the ride there, but instead of sticking his fingers in Sans’ eye sockets, the kid in the seat in front of him bombards the skeleton with questions about how he eats and does other things. Most of the answers come in the form of finger wiggles accompanied by the singular word “ _ mmmmmmagic _ ”. Somehow, that satisfies the children listening in, and they start asking questions about how magic works. Sans seems to be trying to give them actual answers, and you find yourself listening in, though none of it really makes any sense.

Thankfully, once you’ve returned to the school and have gotten all of the kids ready to go home, you find that none of the parents say anything overtly racist or rude to you or Sans. Aside from the camera incident and the fiasco about the groups in the morning, nothing really bad happened. You take it as a good sign, and thank the stars that things seem to be looking up.

Of course, things never look up for long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Screaming sea lions! They really scream!  
> No link to my [tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com) this time. I'm serious.  
> I love you guys, you're pretty great.


	13. It's Not the Drunk People I'm Worried About

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -strums guitar-  
> LOOK AT THIS PHOTOGRAPH.

Alphys is right. Mew Mew Kissy Cutie 2 is awful compared to the first season. 

The small monster (you still haven't decided if she reminds you of a dinosaur or some other, more modern type of lizard) is stuck between you and Undyne on their couch, rambling angrily about the destruction of the main heroine’s character arc. Normally, you'd just smile politely and nod along, but this time, you find yourself contributing to the rant. Undyne seems pleased with you, though. 

Alphys sighs, coming down from her cloud of frustration, and leans back into the couch. “Thanks for coming over,” she says, casting a smile over at you. 

“It's too bad Paps and Sans couldn't make it this time,” Undyne adds. 

“We wouldn't have gotten through the whole season if they had. Neither of them have the attention span for it,” you joke. 

“Neither of them like it enough to sit through it,” the fish monster corrects you with a smirk. 

“I-I’m glad that you s-stayed long enough to watch it all,” Alphys says happily, standing and pulling the tape from the VHS player. “O-oh! And I finished Tokyo Mew Mew. I-it was cute.” 

She pulls the disk set from the shelf and hands it to you. 

“I'll make sure Kendra gets it back,” you tell her, slipping it into your purse. You eye the clock. It's well past midnight, and you know that Neo is at home, waiting to yowl at you for not feeding him on time. The poor fat cat probably thinks he's starving to death. “I should really get going home. Thanks for having me, guys, it was really fun.”

Undyne stands when you do and crosses her arms, tilting her head at you a little. “Are you sure you don't wanna just spend the night? I mean, it's Saturday now, technically. You don't have to work.”

“I-it’s a bit late for you t-to be driving,” Alphys agrees. 

“I'll be fine,” you assure them. “I have to feed my cat and get some school work done, but thank you.”

They exchange slightly worried glances before Undyne sighs and brings a hand down on your shoulder rather hard. 

“Alright, FINE, punk! Just be safe.”

“L-let us know that you got home okay,” Alphys insists. “Not e-everyone is very c-careful at night.”

“It'll be fine,” you assure them again, smiling as Undyne pulls you into a hug. Your friends are very protective, but you can't say that you hate it. Besides, they're right. Driving in college town in the middle of the night can be pretty dangerous, especially since party season is just starting. There's bound to be a few drunk people wandering the streets, trying to find their way home, or even driving. 

You’ll be fine, you figure. You don’t live that far away. 

Alphys and Undyne give you a few more words of warning and advice before you finally convince them to let you leave. Undyne pulls you into another (bone crushing) embrace before you walk out of the door for the night. Your car is only about a minute’s walk away from the door, but they watch you from the porch until you climb inside anyways.

Protective can be nice sometimes, you think, and you wave to them through the window as you pull away, careful to make sure that they see you. Alphys waves nervously, but Undyne uses enough enthusiasm for both of them. You can’t help but grin at them, even when they can no longer see you. 

Considering it’s the middle of the night, you decide not to turn up your music as loud as you would during the day. The volume should keep you awake though; now that you’re not actively shouting at the television screen with your friends, you can feel how tired you are. There aren’t many other people on the road, thank god, and you manage to make it home in record time. You park in your spot and walk quickly through the parking structure and into your apartment building. The elevator is louder than you would like it to be, but you find it keeping you awake. 

Dear god, you can’t wait to go to bed. Imagining your soft blankets and fluffy pillows is already putting you to sleep.

You move to your apartment’s door and scramble to find the key on your key ring, mentally cursing the amount of little charms and things that you have on it. You decide that it’s probably time to take some of them off again (though you know that you’ll end up putting more on as soon as you do). You lift your hand, lightly nudging the door as you do, and you stop.

A door that is shut and locked should not slowly creak open when lightly nudged.

Against your better judgement, you push the door open the rest of the way and flick on your lights. There’s two people that you know that could be in there that wouldn’t warrant you calling the police: Sans and Nolan. Sans wouldn’t leave the door open, though, since he just teleports in, and he doesn’t seem like the type to come over unannounced unless something were seriously wrong. Nolan, on the other hand, loves to scare you, but normally if he decides to hide out in your apartment, he makes sure that the door is shut and locked as soon as he’s inside. 

Maybe he’s trying something new?

“Nolan, this isn’t funny,” you call out tentatively, hearing your voice shake. He’ll make fun of you for that, for sure. You move into the kitchen, half looking for Neo. The cat’s nowhere to be found, which makes you feel worse. If it were Nolan that were there, the cat would be walking around like it’s no big deal.

Neo’s hiding somewhere, probably scared. That’s not like him, especially when his food bowl is empty.

“Nolan?” you call again, moving towards your bedroom. “Come on, dude, don’t do this. Just come out.”

No response, and still no Neo when you look at your bed. Judging by the movement of your curtains, however, your window is open, which you know for a fact is not something that you did. You hear the sound of a window screen popping out and falling down three stories (a sound that you shouldn’t be as familiar with as you are), so you turn on the lights and look over.

Halfway out of your window is someone in a red hoodie. They turn to look at you, revealing a Froggit mask. You stare at them for a second, a bit awestruck, your heart beating out of your chest. A male voice calls out from somewhere far away, and the masked person looks down and out of the window briefly before looking at you and shrugging. They point at your desk before lowering themself the rest of the way through the window and dropping.

It’s not until after they’re gone that you notice the rope through the window, tied tightly to the leg of your dresser. 

You look out of the window, but the person is already leaving, followed by four other people in red jackets, all carrying duffel bags. Your hands are shaking, your breathing shallow, but you still find it in yourself to go over to your desk and see why they were pointing at it. The spot that normally holds your laptop is empty, its cord left behind. The space is now occupied by a sticky note, signed off with the same small doodle of a Froggit that was on the note on your photos at the school. 

_ The higher ups don’t think that “monster fuckers” need an education. Sorry, but good luck finishing your degree. Hope you can replace the stuff we had to take. _

Okay, so your laptop is gone. Great. You pull yourself together and decide to go take inventory of your other belongings. The silver in your jewelry box is gone (all of which had belonged to your great grandmother), as is your DVD player, gaming console, and the stereo you keep on the kitchen counter. You find your small file cabinet open, and a lot of your family photos are missing. The only thing left on your desk that you care about is a small wooden frame that holds the picture taken of you, Frisk, and Sans after the field trip. Mrs. Anderson had taken a picture of each group and made sure to print copies for everyone. 

Upon further inspection, you find another note on the back of the frame.

_ You seemed very attached to the last picture I saved. Thought I’d keep this one safe, too. _

It’s signed off by another small Froggit. You set the photo down as lightly as you can and head back into the living room, which is significantly less trashed than your bedroom. You pull your cellphone from your pocket and decide that the best course of action would be to go ahead and call the police. 

You barely launch into your explanation of what happened (you get through “there’s been a theft” and “a Froggit mask with a red hoodie”) before the dispatcher sends a couple of squad cars your way. She makes you stay on the line with her until they arrive, but they all seem pretty peeved that they have to be there. They ask you questions about what you saw, where you were before you came home, who you were with, and what’s missing before going off to investigate on their own. You’re still shaken, dialing another number on your phone (after they give you the okay to do so). There’s only one person that you know could help you right now, and they’re always a phone call away. They told you they’d always be there to help.

“ _ Mm, hello? It is the middle of the night. Is everything alright? _ ”

The relieved sigh you let out must be audible over the phone. “Hi, Toriel, I’m sorry to bother you,” you say, your voice rushed and still shaky. “Um, something bad happened. The police are in my apartment and I need somebody right now.”

You hear her heave a sigh. “ _ Explain it to me when I get there, my child. I will leave now. _ ” 

You thank her profusely before she insists on hanging up to drive. A police officer comes over to you (younger and seemingly more sympathetic than the others) and taps your shoulder.

“Did you get a hold of who you needed to talk to?” he asks you. 

“Yeah,” you say. “She’s on her way over. She’s the type to do her comforting in person.”

He gives you a weak smile and a short pat on the shoulder before he’s pulled away by another officer. You wait for Toriel, patiently recounting certain details for the officers as they need you to, before the wonderful goat mom herself comes through the open door. You stand to greet her, and she sweeps you into a warm, awfully tight embrace.

“What is going on, my child?” she asks you, releasing you. You gesture for her to join you on the couch, and after she explains who she is to the young officer, who looks at her with wide, wonder-filled eyes, you’re able to launch into your explanation.

“I was with Undyne and Alphys, watching some anime, and when I got home, the Froggit mask person was trying to jump out of my window. They left a note telling me that they had to take some of my stuff, and when I looked around, my valuable stuff except for my TV was gone,” you tell her. She looks lost in thought for a moment.

“Was that the only note?”

“They left one on the picture I have from the field trip,” you say. “Saying that they decided to save that picture since I seemed to relieved to see the ones in my desk at work safe and sound.”

Toriel tenses a little bit, sucking in a breath like she has something to say, but releases it and smiles down at you. “I am sure that you would not want to sleep in a ruined home,” she says slowly, as if picking her words carefully. “Perhaps you should pack up some clothing and come stay in my guest room for the weekend? We can get your apartment situated during the day, so that it is ready for you for the work week.” 

“That’s… very kind of you,” you say. “I, uh…  _ Shit _ ! I’d have to bring my cat with me, wouldn’t I? I haven’t seen him yet, oh my god, he must be so scared--”

“Relax,” Toriel breathes, and you clamp your mouth shut immediately. She looks so calm, like nothing can ever be wrong. You let that calmness influence you, and you release the tension in your shoulders. “He is probably under your bed. That is where Frisk tends to hide when they are scared.”

You snort a little, finding it funny that Toriel would compare Frisk to a cat. “He probably is,” you agree. “I think I’ll go look.”

You stand and carefully maneuver around the officers, heading into your bedroom and briefly explaining what you’re doing (“I’m packing an overnight bag and looking for my cat”). You thank the universe when you look under your bed and see two bright eyes staring at you, perfectly round and full of fear. You hold out a hand and feel Neo’s wet nose brush against your fingers as he sniffs them, then his soft fur presses into your hand. He’s happy to see you, you think, and he lets you pull him out from under the bed and hold him close to your chest. He doesn’t protest when you push him gently into his cat carrier, and instead curls up and watches you shove some clothes and pajamas into one of your large tote bags. Knowing that your cat is safe makes you feel just a little bit better about the situation. 

The young officer comes in and pulls on a rubber glove before he lifts the photo frame from your desk. You feel a little uneasy, watching him inspect the photo closely before he turns it over and removes the sticky note, which gets placed into a small evidence baggie. 

“If it’s not too much to ask,” you find yourself saying, “I’d like to bring the photo with me.”

He turns and looks at you, a little dumbfounded, before giving you a lopsided grin. “Of course. It’s just the note that we need for evidence,” he says. He walks over and places it in your hand. “Sounds like it has some sort of sentimental value.”

“Photos mean a lot to me,” you tell him, sounding a little defensive. He chuckles and turns. 

“We can’t really let you leave until the investigation is done,” he tells you, “but I think it should be over soon.”

“Great,” you huff. Suddenly, you don’t think you want police officers flitting around your apartment anymore. 

You follow him back out into the living area, carrying both your tote and the cat, and sit back next to Toriel. It takes the officers another twenty minutes of walking around, their eyes peering into every aspect of your home life, and asking you questions before they’re satisfied. One of the older officers, who had spoken to you initially, tells you that since you’ve already filed your official report with them, you’re free to head to Toriel’s. You insist that you wait here until they’re all gone (you tell him that you just want to lock up behind them, but really, you don’t want anybody alone in your apartment anymore), and he nods understandingly. He gathers the other officers and leaves the apartment, leaving you alone with Toriel. You sigh and lean against her arm, and she pats your leg. 

“Are you ready to leave?” she asks, and you nod. You’re exhausted, and if you had wanted to get to bed before, you’re completely desperate to now. 

You nearly fall asleep during the car ride (Toriel tells you that she’ll take you home to get your car tomorrow), and you barely manage to clamber upstairs and into the guest room. You peel off your clothing and slip into the pajamas, then let Neo out of the carrier. The last thing you manage to do before curling into the warm quilt is set the picture frame on the bedside table. You run your fingers over the edge of it, finding yourself more relieved than you’d think that it’s safe, that the memory of that day with Sans and Frisk is safe, before you let your arm fall onto the mattress and your eyes drift shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, the chapter's so much shorter than usual! I blame Monster Hunter Generations for my procrastination.   
> It's a hella good game, guys.   
> I redesigned my [tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com), complete with my own art!  
> Final note: I'm not even sorry about the Nickelback reference. It's awful and I know it.


	14. Our King is Lousy with Jokes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is only one pun.

You forgot to feed Neo.

The thought of your cat, scared and alone, hiding under the bed is enough to get you to bolt upright, flinging the blankets off of yourself and straightening your shirt quickly. The door is slightly ajar, and you know you had shut it last night so that Neo wouldn't run amok in the house. Toriel must have checked on you, but that also means that the cat isn't in the room. You check under the bed anyways before you head downstairs.

Toriel and Frisk are in the living room, as is your tiny black panther. The child is on the couch, lightly stroking the car from the top of his head to the tip of his tail, and judging by the loud, rumbling purr, he's enjoying every second of it. Toriel is watching them like a hawk, and you're unsure if she's scared that Frisk will hurt Neo or if Neo will hurt Frisk. She looks at you as you walk over and smiles.

“Good morning, my child. I trust you slept well?” she says. You nod.

“I need to run home and get some cat food for Neo,” you say. “He never got fed last night.”

“Not to worry,” she assures you. “Asgore shared his breakfast sausage with the feline. Actually, he shared a bit of everything from his plate with him.”

You let out an amused snort and scoop the cat up and against your chest as he pads over to you. “You're letting them give you the royal treatment, huh?” you tease. He meows and tries to wriggle away. You set him back down and watch him go back to Frisk.

“Was that not wise, to feed him from the table?” Toriel asks, a little concerned. You shake your head.

“No, it's fine. He just can't eat like that all the time,” you say. “I do it all the time. That's why he's so fat.”

Neo rumbles at you. Toriel’s smile returns, and she looks a little relieved.

“He is a strange creature,” she comments. “Such tiny paws. He reminds me of a Temmie.”

“A Temmie?” you echo, but you’re distracted by Frisk running to the front door when the doorbell sounds. Toriel just watches after them, distracted as well.

How does Frisk know there’s someone at the door?

The aforementioned door swings open when the child pulls on the door knob, and you watch the two skeleton brothers come in. Papyrus immediately rushes over to you and scoops you into his arms. You hug him back tightly, somehow able to feel his anxiety radiating off of him. Sans, though, seems much calmer on the outside. He nudges you with his shoulder and looks raises a brow bone at you once you Papyrus takes a step back, keeping his easy grin on his face, but something tells you that he’s not a happy camper.

“TORIEL TOLD US WHAT HAPPENED, HUMAN,” Papyrus starts, looking at you nervously and patting your arms, as if trying to make sure you’re alright. “THOUGH I AM SHAKEN BY THE EVENTS, I MUST SAY THAT I AM GLAD YOU’RE SAFE.”

“Thanks, Paps,” you say. “Everything’s fine. I’m fine.”

You say it to him, and make it seem like it’s for him, but you can’t help but feel like you’re only saying it for yourself. Sure, you can slap a smile on your face and convince everyone that you’re okay, but convincing yourself is a whole other story. You say it a couple more times, like a mantra to calm yourself, and it seems to calm Papyrus as well. Sans nudges you again and looks at you, his expression hardly shifting as his brother wanders towards Frisk.

“you sure you’re ok, kid?” he asks quietly, quiet enough that you’re sure you’re the only one that heard.

“I’m fine,” you repeat. “I mean, my computer is gone, and my great grandma’s irreplaceable silver is gone, but I’m fine.” You can't help but sound a little bitter.

“there it is,” he breathes. “i’m not just talking about being physically ok.”

“I know,” you murmur. “Everything will work out one way or another.”

He snorts and meets your eyes again, his grin faltering. “spare me your fake optimism.”

You furrow your brow and frown at him. “The _fake optimism_ is for myself, thanks.”

His expression softens a little. “i’m not tryin’ to fight you, bud.”

You sigh. “I know.”

He watches you for a moment longer, searching your face. He takes a second to level himself and fix his grin, then joins Papyrus and Frisk. You wander over as well.

“AH, HUMAN, I FORGOT TO TELL YOU,” Papyrus says. “WHEN TORIEL TOLD US WHAT HAPPENED, SANS INSISTED THAT WE COME OVER IMMEDIATELY. I THINK HE IS WORRIED.”

“don’t slander me.”

“HE WAS TALKING ABOUT GOING WITH YOU TO SORT OUT YOUR HOME.”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“IF HE IS WILLING TO HELP, I WOULD TAKE HIM UP ON THE OFFER. IT IS NOT OFTEN THAT HE SUGGESTS HELPING.” Papyrus gives his brother a fond look.

“just wanna see the damage for myself,” Sans mutters, looking away from the two of you.

You smile at them and wander over to Neo, who gives you the same meow he uses when it’s time to eat. You narrow your eyes at him. You know that he just likes to have the option of eating whenever he wants, and there’s no way he’s starving to death, especially if Asgore was as generous as Toriel told you he was this morning.

“I’m gonna get dressed, and then I want to head over there,” you say, stretching your arms over your head. “If you want to come with, you can, Sans.”

The shorter skeleton shrugs noncommittally as you head for the stairs. You eye him one more time before going back into the guest room. You're thankful for the sweatpants and t-shirt you packed for yourself in your rush (no time to put together a cohesive outfit when in panic mode), and the comfortable clothes make you feel a little bit better, though they're not much different from the pajamas you were wearing. You do your best to tame your hair and head back downstairs.

“Ready,” you say, stopping at the door and slipping your sneakers on.

Sans wanders over to you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“gonna take a shortcut,” he tells you. “we can bring your car back after.”

“Deal,” you say, and you try to mentally prepare yourself as he pulls you into his side and you feel the familiar crackle of magic around you. When you blink, you feel a small lurch like normal, but the wave of nausea that you expect doesn’t come. Your living room is a little different in the daylight, with sunbeams filtering in from the kitchen and warming up Neo’s favorite spot on the rug. You stumble forward a little when Sans lets go of you, but you don’t feel bad at all. A little weird, but… more energized?

“need me to grab a bucket?” Sans asks, reaching out and placing his hand on your shoulder.

You shake your head and straighten yourself out. “Nah, I’m fine,” you say, smiling at him. “I think I’m getting used to that. This time, it made me feel kind of… good?”

His eye sockets widen for a fraction of a second before he drops both his hand and his gaze, but you don’t miss the light blue tinge on his cheekbones. “my magic made you feel _good_ ,” he mumbles. “ok. what did you wanna do here?”

“I need cat food,” you say, “and I wanted to see how bad it actually was. Isn’t that what you wanted to do?”

“yeah.”

“My DVD player is gone,” you say, ticking that off of your mental checklist. Nothing on the entertainment center is too screwed up, but it does look scratched up now. Your TV is askew and unplugged, as if they had been trying to figure out how to take it. You wander into the kitchen and look at the counter. Stereo’s gone, like it was last night. You point that out to Sans before he walks away and open the cat’s food cabinet, pulling out the bin of dry food and the couple of cans of wet food that you had hidden. It was stressful for Neo, and even if Asgore already gave him a ridiculous amount of non-cat food, you figure that he deserves a treat.

“hey, uh, looks like the bedroom’s a mess,” Sans says, jerking his thumb back at it as he returns.

You grimace. It was a mess last night, but you didn’t pay much attention to what was where while you were gathering your belongings and rescuing your cat from his turmoil. You’re a little afraid to see what it’s like. You nod at him, though, and move past him to set the food by the door. You venture over to your bedroom, time seeming to slow as you step through the doorway. It’s not too bad, not really. The window is still open, but the rope is gone. Clothes and small items from your desk and dresser litter the floor. Your closet is flung open and messier than usual, and the dresser drawers are all open and torn apart. Your small jewelry box is open, though nothing is missing besides the box that held the silver.

Shit, you'll have to explain that to your mother.

When Sans said it was a mess, you thought that maybe more things were missing. Maybe they would have written on the walls or something, and you just didn't see it last night in your panic. You shake your head and step carefully through the minefield of your floor so that you can close the window and lock it.

“that's where they left from?” Sans asks, lingering in the doorway. He's so calm and still and relaxed that you're a little afraid. You'd think that he would get angry, considering that his asking if you were okay almost escalated into an argument earlier, but he seems… normal.

“Yeah,” you say. “He just kind of dropped down. There was a rope. I think the police took it.”

Sans hums, but says nothing. You move back to the door and he steps aside. He stays in his spot after you head towards the hall closet, thankful that you bought two litter boxes in case something happened to the first. You dig it out and set it by the door with the food. You go back for the container of litter, and once that’s by the door, you look back at him. You clear your throat to get his attention, and he comes over.

“Since you came with, you can help,” you tell him, lifting the food bin. “Can you bring the box and litter?”

He gives you a weird look and holds up a finger, his eye socket crackling for a moment, and the last two items lift and float lazily behind him. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“If you’re going to do that, you can take all of it,” you say, half joking. He shrugs, and you feel the items in your arms become weightless. Your eyes settle on the light blue glow around them, and you give him an incredulous look.

You’re answered with a slow wink, and the cat food is pulled away from you.

“I was kidding,” you say.

“you’ll just have to owe me,” he replies.

The two of you receive a few weird looks from the human tenants, but a few of your monster neighbors just wave and say hello as you head down to the parking structure. Sans easily drops the cat supplies into the trunk of your car, and you climb into the driver’s seat. Sans fiddles with the passenger seat until he figures out how to get it to recline a bit, and he kicks his feet up onto the dashboard. He grins at you.

“you still wear this?” he asks after you pull onto the road, tapping your ring with a finger.

“It was a gift,” you reply. “Of course I wear it.”

He chuckles and looks out the window. “ok.”

“Hey, so, I had a question,” you say after another few moments.

“shoot.”

“So, how is it that you can talk to Frisk without signing?”

He looks nervous for a second, but shrugs. “uh, well, that’s a little difficult to explain.” He clears his nonexistent throat and straightens the seat. “frisk, uh, they spent a lot of time in the underground. they’re a little more… sensitive to magic, i guess. how much do you know about monsters?”

“Not very much,” you admit.

“we’re a little bit of physical matter and a whole lotta magic,” he tells you. “without my magic, i’d literally be a pile of bones on the floor. make sense?” You nod. It kind of does. “so, no vocal cords. my voice is a projection of my magic. it’s pretty low level stuff, not too much effort.”

“So how can Frisk… _hear_ your magic?”

He grunts and rubs the back of his skull. “like i said, they’re sensitive to magic. they more or less hear us with their soul, i guess.”

You raise an eyebrow at him.

“don’t tell me you don’t know what a soul is.”

You shrug. He sighs.

“ok. ok. so a soul is your whole being. all of my magic comes from my soul. you can tell what kind of person someone is based on how their soul feels.”

“Really?”

“really.” He turns his attention back out the window. “that’s why tori was so sure that it was ok to have you over. she could feel from your soul that you’re a good, kind, patient person.”

Your face heats a little bit. “Yeah? The first thing you did was threaten me.”

“s’my job.”

“So, uh, if your magic is blue, your Soul would be, too, right?”

He shifts in his seat, decidedly keeping his gaze away from you. “yeah.”

“Does mine have a color?”

He sputters, looking over at you with wide, blank sockets. Sweat beads his brow, and he’s flushed a dark navy. “i-i wouldn’t know.”

“Why not? Isn’t that something you can see? Or am I understanding this wrong?”

“bud, that’s… i can _feel_ it all the time. it’s almost like a warmth radiating off of someone. i  can’t _see_ it. i mean, i haven’t looked for it.”

“Why?” You turn a corner. Toriel’s neighborhood is just a few streets over.

“souls are private,” he says in almost a whisper. “it’s like… uh, humans wouldn’t… _copulate_ if they didn’t have a kind of… special connection? would they?”

“I mean, personally, I wouldn’t,” you say. “I wouldn’t put it past some humans, though. There’s some that do it for money if they’re really desperate.”

He sputters again. “what the fu-- ok. it doesn’t work like that for monsters. you don’t show your soul to someone unless they’re really, _really_ special to you. if they had the intent, they could kill you just by touching it.”

He winces at his own words, and you pull into Toriel’s neighborhood. “I’m sorry,” you say. “I didn’t know that this was such a… weirdly personal topic.”

“it’s ok, bud. you didn’t know.”

A heavy, awkward silence falls over the two of you as you park in front of Toriel’s house. You shut off the engine and get out as quickly as you can without seeming desperate to get away. It’s not that you’re particularly embarrassed, but something about the air between you feel a bit… strained, but not in a bad way. It’s like both of you are holding back words.

Oh, that’s right. You have a giant crush on this skeleton, and you’re basically asking him about monster sex.

There’s the embarrassment, flaming up on your cheeks as you open the trunk.

“i’ll get it,” he mumbles, brushing past you and lifting the items with his magic once again. You nod and keep your mouth shut, eyes trained on your feet as you shut the trunk and head up to the door. You go ahead and let yourself in (Toriel wouldn’t have it any other way).

“HUMAN, BROTHER, YOU HAVE RETURNED!” Papyrus booms, meeting you at the door. He stops short, concern crossing his expression. “YOU BOTH SEEM UPSET. IS EVERYTHING ALRIGHT?”

You nod. “Mhm!” Your voice is a couple of octaves higher than normal, and your face flares again.

“everything’s good, bro,” Sans says, his voice equally strained. “where do you want this stuff?”

“Just set it down, I’ll take care of it,” you tell him quietly. “Gotta ask Toriel first.”

He leaves the stuff by the door and shuffles off into the living room. You follow, kicking off your shoes. Toriel is probably in there, since that’s where Papyrus is running off to. Lo and behold, sitting on one of the couches is Toriel and Asgore, looking at you like it’s time for a family meeting. Sans and Papyrus sit on the other couch, leaving a spot for you in the middle. When you sit, Frisk crawls into your lap, bringing Flowey with.

“I feel like I’m walking into a bad situation,” you say.

“Not bad,” Toriel says. “We just want to talk to you for a moment.”

A feeling of dread hangs over you, made worse by how tense Sans feels beside you. Frisk pats your head comfortingly. Neo wanders out from somewhere and joins you on the couch, sniffing Papyrus’ femur.

“Listen, my child. We think that it is… dangerous for you to return home,” Toriel says carefully. “They know how to get in, and there is not much we can do as far as security measures there, so--”

“Stay with us a while longer,” Asgore finishes.

You stare at them for a long moment, and you’re sure your jaw has dropped. You shake your head. “I… I’m honored, really, guys. I mean, I’ve never met anyone as kind as you all are, but I can’t just -- I’ve known you guys for what, a month? A little over a month? That’s really soon. Are you sure you trust me that much?”

“remember what i told you about souls, and what toriel thought of you the first time we met?” Sans pipes up, looking away from everyone. You can see the blue tinge returning to his face. Papyrus makes a noise of understanding and winks at you, very audibly.

“First impressions and levels of trust are two different things,” you say, looking back to Toriel. “Are you sure you trust me that much?”

“I do not trust Frisk to just anyone,” she replies, and you can tell that she’s sincere. Damn Toriel and her comforting presence.

You heave a short sigh and scratch behind Neo’s ear. “What do you mean by a while longer? If it’s more than a week, I’ll have to report it to the school as a temporary address change, and that could raise questions.”

“A week at most,” Asgore replies, “though if it becomes more than that, we will see to it that the school understands why.”

You nod. You know you can’t fight the monster monarchy. Not when they’re so damn nice and sincere. “Okay. Okay, fine. I’ll stay here while I get my apartment fixed up and my locks changed, then I’ll move back home, okay?”

Toriel beams at you. “Perfect. This way, I know you are safe, and maybe Sans will finally relax.”

He did relax a little when you agreed. You look over at him, and he sinks further into his hoodie. “i’m always relaxed,” he mutters.

“He becomes like a child when he is unsure of what will happen,” Asgore teases, and you’re sure it’s just to get on Sans’ nerves.

It seems to be working.

“Well, then, child, it seems that this will be your… _New Home_ ,” Asgore says, waggling his eyebrows at Toriel. She groans and shakes her head.

“THAT IS THE NAME OF THE CAPITAL UNDERGROUND,” Papyrus tells you in a whispered yell. “OUR KING IS VERY LOUSY AT NAMING THINGS.”

“and at jokes, apparently,” Sans adds.

“Oh, Toriel,” you say, pushing Frisk off of you gently. “I brought my cat’s food and a litter tray. I was wondering if you could help me find a place to put them?”

“Of course, my child,” she says. She stands with you and follows you to the door. “The litter tray is what they use for a restroom, is it not? Perhaps we could put it in there?”

* * *

 

A week quickly turned into two. It’s past time for you to report the temporary address change to the school, and after a lengthy conversation with Mrs. Anderson (in which she completely understood the circumstances and promised she would help explain if need be), you submitted the form to the main office before work started this morning. Now, you’re sitting at your desk while the kids work on a spelling worksheet, checking your email for word that your new locks have been made. The email still isn’t in your inbox, so you shut your new laptop (thank the universe that you had enough money put away) and fiddle with your phone for a moment. The bell signalling lunch time rings, and you stand to help gather the children into a line. While you do that, you barely register that Mrs. Anderson is having a quiet conversation with someone on the classroom’s phone.

She comes over to you and taps your shoulder as you get ready to lead the children. “They want to speak with you in the main office,” she tells you. “I’ll take the class down.”

Her expression is sympathetic, and you sigh. You know what this is going to be about. You give her a curt nod and she leads the kids away. You decide you should probably shoot a text to Sans to let him know what’s going on, since he’s supposed to be with Toriel today.

**You (11:32 AM): Thought you should know that I submitted the temporary address change form, and they’re asking me to come down and talk to them. I’ve got a bad feeling.**

**Sans (11:33 AM): so do we. see you when you get down here.**

You make a face at your phone and shove it in your skirt pocket, heading downstairs. You slip into the main office, and the secretary points you towards the principal’s office. You knock before entering, and sitting in the room across the desk from the principal are Toriel, Asgore, and Sans.

The principal is an older, balding man with thin, wire-rimmed, circular glasses. He pushes them up his nose and gestures for you to take the empty seat. Sans fidgets next to you a little bit, shoving his hands deeper into his jacket, and flicks his eyelights over to you for a moment. You give him a weak smile.

“It’s unusual for a staff member to take up residency with one of the students,” the principal starts, pushing his glasses up again. He needs to get them adjusted. Or get some new ones. How old _are_ those things? “Do you know why it’s unusual?” He pauses, but continues before anyone can really answer. “It’s against policy. You have no blood relation to the student, which makes it, well, immoral.”

“I do not see how caring for our dear friend is immoral,” Asgore says. “She detailed the incident completely on the form. I sat with her while she filled it out. You cannot honestly think that this is without reason.”

“It may be a valid reason, but it’s against policy,” he says. “If I give my approval and send it to the school board, I’ll lose my position. You see, they’re really into keeping with policy, Mr. Dreemurr, and if I don’t do my job by keeping with it as well, then we have a problem.”

“It wasn’t a problem when another one of the student teachers moved in with Mr. Jenkins because they were having troubles at home,” you say, remembering your conversation with Mrs. Anderson.

“Yes, well, Mr. Jenkins is not a student.” He looks a little astonished that you know what you know.

“Why exactly is this against policy?” you push as politely as you can.

“Because, it, well…”

“Don’t tell me that you’re following a policy without knowing the reason for it,” you continue.

He looks offended. “It is not my job to question policy, ma’am, and it is not your job to question _me_.” He sighs. “Look, I don’t like doing this. We all like you here. I’m just doing my job.”

“Are you firing me?”

Sans tenses.

“I’m giving you until tonight to move back into your own home, or I’ll have to.”

“That is absurd!” Toriel says. “It is dangerous for her to return home before the new locks are made.”

“How long will that take?” the principal asks.

“I’ll have them within a week,” you say. “I’m just waiting on the email telling me I can go pick them up.”

“I’m required to send this in the morning,” he says, waving your report in front of him. “I really need you out of there tonight if I’m going to keep you around.”

“Is it because they’re monsters?” you ask after a prolonged period of silence. It has to be. Mrs. Anderson gave you about ten reasons why it would work out okay, all of which were examples of employees staying with other employees while things settled down. He stares at you, wide eyed, and you can feel Sans tense further.

“I-I would never--”

His mouth opens and closes a few more times, but you watch his eyes dart around a little and sweat start to form at his brow. He seems… nervous. Found out. He didn’t show much concern when your desk was defaced, and now that your house has been broken into, he’s just as indifferent, if not a little more cold.

You stand, removing your ID from around your neck and dropping it on his desk. “You don’t need to speak,” you say. “Your expression tells me everything that I need to know.” You look to your friends. “I’m leaving. You don’t have to stay any longer if you don’t want to, either.”

“can i?” Sans asks, looking up at you. You know what he means when you feel the crackle of magic in the air.

“No, that would be giving him a reason to be this much of a coward,” you mutter darkly. Normally, you’re not so crude, but you think that at a time like this, it’s alright. “Besides, there’s probably a policy without backup against that.”

Sans grins a sick, dark grin, and it makes you feel just a little bit better about things. You walk out of the room, vaguely listening as Toriel insists on pulling Frisk from school (“I do not wish to have my child educated in an environment that condones hatred against monsters”). You head up to your classroom, Sans close behind you, and start gathering your belongings. Sans whispers to Frisk, and you talk to Mrs. Anderson. She promises to email you all of the worksheets that the class does so that you can keep teaching Frisk, and so that they won’t fall behind the other children. You sling your bag over your shoulder and head downstairs, meeting Toriel and Asgore in the parking lot. They both look a little concerned about your decision, and ask if you regret it.

You don’t. You’re very patient, but even yours runs out.

You’re very tolerant, but monsters are suddenly making up most of your relationships, and you can’t stand to see the people you care about dealing with this kind of horse shit.’

You drive yourself home, Sans in the passenger seat and Frisk in the back. Sans explains to them what’s going on. They seem to understand.

Back at Toriel’s, Frisk brings you into the living room to lay on the floor and color with them. It’s oddly relaxing, putting color into the Halloween-themed pictures. Eventually, Toriel asks you to stay put and watch Frisk for a bit while she does a little bit of shopping. This leaves you at home alone -- both Asgore and Sans had to go back to work.

You sit up and sign to Frisk. “ _If you don’t mind, I have a couple of questions for you_.”

*” _What about?_ ”

You take a deep breath. “ _About the Underground_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I'd be late, but I wasn't! Woah!  
> Still, it took me all day to finish this, whoops.  
> Come bug me on [tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)! I like talking to you sin children.


	15. Bonetrousle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things happen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Sorry for the long wait - life happened, and I couldn't find the motivation to get this chapter done. I hope you all understand. This one is a bit shorter than usual, but we're getting back on track.  
> If you touch this link, you'll go to my [tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com).  
> It's a fun place to be, pals. It's a fun place to be.

Frisk sits back and inspects the drawing they've just made. It’s another family portrait, including all of your monster friends, but it includes you, too, now, holding hands with Frisk and Sans. You smile at it.

*” _What do you want to know about the Underground_?” they ask you.

You think for a moment. You hadn’t really gotten that far in your thinking. “ _Anything you can tell me._ ”

The child stares at you for a long moment and shrugs, starting to sign slowly.

*” _I can tell you just about everything. I know a lot more than everybody thinks I do._ ” They click their tongue. *” _Should I start from the beginning?_ ”

“ _I just want to know what it’s like down there. Maybe some interesting things about monsters that I don’t know already,_ ” you sign. You’re not sure that you want to hear the entire history of monsters again (Papyrus recounted that for you a few times already). Frisk nods.

*“ _When I fell down there, I landed in the Ruins. That used to be their capital, but when Mom got mad at Dad, she moved back there by herself,_ ” Frisk tells you, making sure to sign slow so that you catch everything. You lean back against the couch and draw your knees to your chest. *“ _Mom eventually let me out, and I met Sans. He kept an eye on me while Papyrus and I ran around and did puzzles. Then Papyrus wanted to fight so that he could capture me, and we went on a date instead._ ”

That confirms your theory about Papyrus not really trying to kill Frisk. You nod to let them know to continue.

*“ _They lived in a place called Snowdin. They had snow and trees and I have no idea how because it was under the mountain._ ” They furrow their brow. *“ _It was really nice there. The whole town was filled with really really nice monsters. Then Papyrus told me how to get to the Barrier so I could maybe go home, and I went to Waterfall. That’s where Undyne lived._ ”

Frisk puts themself into a more comfortable position and looks back up at you. *“ _Undyne chased me around a lot and tried to kill me the whole time I was there. Sans helped a couple of times, though. I got away from her and into Hotland when she found him sleeping at his post._ ” They grin. *“ _Then she got too hot and fell down, and I poured water on her and visited her house and we accidentally burned it down while making spaghetti._ ”

You stifle a laugh. “ _Was Papyrus involved?_ ”

*” _No. He had already jumped out the window._ ”

They shrug like that’s no big deal, and you find yourself grinning as well. “ _Tell me more_ ,” you sign.

*” _I met Alphys in Hotland, and she upgraded my phone and helped me escape Mettaton. Then I fought Asgore and Flowey and spared him and he helped me break the Barrier. Now we're here.”_

They think for a moment longer. You stay silent; judging by their expression, they still have more to say.

*” _Well, maybe you wanted to know more about what monsters actually are?_ ” they sign hesitantly. You nod. *” _Monsters are made of mostly magic and a little bit of physical stuff. Their magic comes from their Souls_ .” They take another breath, holding up a hand to stop you from telling them that Sans already told you that part. *” _When a monster’s Soul is dying, they Fall Down. It’s like they fall asleep and then they stay asleep until they turn to dust._ ” They grimace. *” _They turn into actual dust. Piles of it. It’s not pretty._ ”

You’re about to ask how they know that when they shudder and hold up their hand again. *” _Their funerals are nice, though. I read a book that said a monster’s family will take their dust and spread it on their favorite thing, so the monster will live on in that thing.”_

You smile at the sentiment. As sad as it is, it is pretty sweet. Frisk hunkers back down and picks up their crayon again. They color for a few moments longer before they stand up abruptly and clamber over to the movie cabinet. They pull one out and, after giving a little bit of attention to the lazing Flowey perched on top, bring it over to you. You glance at the cover and raise an eyebrow at them.

*” _Mom says that other monsters might be offended,_ ” they sign as an explanation. *” _I thought that maybe you would watch it with me?_ ”

The kid is already pulling out the puppy eyes, even though they should know by now that you can’t say no to them. You ruffle their hair and stand to set up the DVD player, listening to them as they gather up their coloring materials and scoot back closer to the couch.

You can kind of see how Monsters Inc. would possibly offend a couple of your monster friends. You make sure to bring the remote with you when you go back to curl up on one end of the couch. Once the subtitles are turned on and the volume is turned up (Toriel apparently watches the news with the volume nearly muted), you let yourself settle.

It isn’t long before you’re completely immersed in the movie; it’s been a short while since you’ve watched it, and it’s one of the movies higher up on your list. About halfway through, Frisk turns and signs to you, asking you to make popcorn or something. You move a bit slowly into the kitchen, finding that it's taking a little effort to tear your eyes from the screen. Soon enough, you've got the popcorn in the microwave and a bowl on the counter. You dump the contents in when it's done and, satisfied, take it in both hands. You start to walk back into the living room--

“hey.”

You whip around, scrambling to keep a grip on the bowl, and stare into amused eye sockets. Oh, this little shit, with his smug grin and short laugh. You narrow your eyes at him.

“You can't keep doing that to me,” you hiss.

He's still grinning. He raises a brow bone and only responds with a quiet “heh”. You throw a couple of pieces of popcorn at him, one of which falls into his eye socket. He looks mildly horrified for a split second before returning to his amused demeanor.

“rude,” he says.

“What's rude is you scaring the shit out of me all the time,” you argue. “Aren't you supposed to be at work or something?”

“yup.”

“Then why aren't you?”

“technically i'm still on the clock,” he tells you, following you to the living room. You give him a questioning glance. “uh, on a mission from the king,” he goes on. “bein’ the royal babysitter.”

“We don't need a babysitter,” you grumble, sitting back in your seat on the couch and balancing the bowl on one knee. Sans sits next to you, once again amazing you with how quickly he gets comfortable.

“tell asgore that.”

You huff and turn your attention back to the screen. Frisk crawls up onto the couch between the two of you, digging into the bowl loudly.

“so, these monsters… their energy comes from scaring humans?” Sans asks slowly. You squint at the screen.

“Yeah.”

“and humans have been teaching their children this?” His eye sockets narrow, and you can’t tell if he’s upset or just confused.

“That’s not the moral of the story,” you tell him. “Just… watch.”

He gives you a look that’s hard to read before looking back at the screen. Frisk absently puts popcorn into his hand, and by the end of the movie, Sans seems a little more relaxed.

“Wasn’t so bad, was it?” you say, leaning forward in your seat a little bit.

“i can see why frisk wouldn’t wanna watch it with us,” he replies.

Frisk scoots away from the two of you and takes the movie out of the player as the front door swings open loudly. A loud “Nyeh!” signals Papyrus’ presence.

“BROTHER!” he shouts, coming into the living room. “YOUR SHIFT IS OVER. IT IS MY TURN TO WATCH THE HUMANS.”

“didn’t know we were takin’ turns,” Sans replies, giving his younger brother a lazy grin. “i’ll take it, though. these guys are a handful.”

“I AM SURE IT IS NOTHING I CANNOT HANDLE,” Papyrus says, pulling his brother to his feet and taking his place. “HELLO, HUMANS.”

“Hi, Papyrus,” you say, and Frisk waves. Sans shoves his hands in his pockets and looks to you.

“i guess i’ll see you later,” he says. “be good for pap, yeah?”

You huff at him but still smile. “Go away, Sans.”

His grin widens, and for a split second, magic crackles around him and his right socket glows. When you blink, he’s gone.

“Can you do that?” you ask, turning your attention to Papyrus. The tall skeleton shakes his head.

“I CANNOT,” he replies. “IF I AM HONEST, I AM NOT SURE HOW SANS DOES IT. ONE DAY HE COULD NOT, AND THE NEXT, HE APPEARED IN FRONT OF ME WITHOUT WARNING. I WAS STILL A BABYBONES AT THAT TIME.”

“Interesting,” you say. You watch Frisk as they busy themself picking out another movie. Realization washes over you after a moment. “Oh yeah, I had a favor to ask.”

“WHAT IS IT?”

“I just wanted to know if you could help me get some stuff from my apartment tomorrow, if you’re not busy,” you tell him. “I need some more clothes, plus Neo’s cat tree if I’m going to be staying here any longer. He’s been scratching at the carpet, and it’s only a matter of time before he moves on to Toriel’s furniture.”

“THAT WOULD NOT BE A GOOD THING,” he sighs. “OF COURSE I WILL HELP YOU, HUMAN. I CAN MEET YOU AT YOUR APARTMENT AROUND NOON IF THAT IS ALRIGHT.”

“Of course that’s good,” you say. “I really appreciate it, Paps.”

He beams at you. “IT IS NEVER A HASSLE TO HELP A FRIEND, HUMAN.”

* * *

 

It’s noon.

You’re a little late, but you know Papyrus won’t mind at all. He told you last night that he didn’t have work today, so you’re not intruding on any plans. You sigh in relief as you pull towards your apartment building’s parking structure. He said he would wait for you in here, and you figure he’ll be posing next to his super cool sports car, as per the norm.

Speaking of, you see the red convertible and pull into the spot next to it. Though… weird. You don’t see Papyrus. Maybe he’s hiding on the other side, where you won’t be able to see him? Still, you’re starting to get a bad feeling. You step out of your car and start walking over to the other side of his.

“Hey, Pap?” you say gently. “If you’re trying to scare me, I’m already expecting it. Game over.”

There’s no response. You furrow your brow and continue.

You stop.

Everything stops.

Oh, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

Near the slightly open driver’s door of his car, sitting on the ground in a spot you wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been expecting to see Papyrus crouching on the ground, is a pile of--

Oh, fuck.

_Dust._

There’s tears welling up in your eyes. There’s his scarf, hanging loosely to the side mirror of the car on his other side. You don’t dare touch it. You don’t dare touch the dust. You don’t dare.

You feel like you’re going to vomit.

You pull your phone from your pocket, your throat tightening. When the news said that there had been violence near here, you didn’t expect it to hit so close to home.

Not Papyrus. No, no no no.

For the first time since you’ve known him, you don’t hesitate before calling Sans.  



	16. This Isn't the Fucking Backstreet Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which my beta sang "Bye Bye Bye" and my angry remark became the title. Also, Sans POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention this was a double update? No? Sorry.  
> Honestly, I could have done one chapter with how short these two are, but... eh. Where's the fun in that?

Sans’ brother means everything to him.

Through every timeline, every shitty reality, and every great one, the only thing that’s kept him sane is his wonderful little brother. Papyrus, who likes his puns but decides to pretend that he doesn’t anyways. Papyrus, who always reverts back to the same awful cooking skill level every timeline, though Sans doesn’t mind watching him improve over and over again. Papyrus, who has always been there to support the shorter skeleton no matter what. Sure, as brothers, they get on each other’s nerves from time to time, but there is nothing in the universe, in any timeline, that means more to Sans than Papyrus does. 

Today’s breakfast spaghetti was, well, actually pretty good. Since coming to the surface, Papyrus has improved his cooking at an incredible rate. Sans was actually able to enjoy every bite of it (though, of course, he  _ always _ enjoys every bite of his brother’s spaghetti; his brother is the one who made it, after all). 

Now, the older skeleton brother lounges on the couch, watching his brother get ready for… something. Papyrus wraps his scarf loosely around his neck and looks down at Sans with his hands on his hips. 

“where you goin’?” Sans asks, trying to keep his tone as indifferent as possible. 

“OUT WITH THE HUMAN,” he replies. “SHE ASKED ME TO ASSIST IN RETRIEVING SOME OF HER BELONGINGS.” 

Sans sucks in a breath. “just be careful, bro.”

“CAREFUL? I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, ALWAYS TAKE THE UTMOST CARE IN EVERYTHING THAT I DO!” He huffs, then crouches in front of Sans and pats his head lovingly. “THERE IS NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT, BROTHER.”

“i know. just doin’ my brotherly job.” He winks, and Papyrus beams at him before wrapping him into a hug. 

“I WILL BE HOME BEFORE YOU KNOW IT. PLEASE FIND SOMETHING PRODUCTIVE TO DO. YOUR ROOM IS A MESS.”

“i built that mess myself,” Sans replies. 

“I KNOW.” Papyrus pulls away with a sigh and smiles. “I WILL BE HOME SOON.”

“have fun with the human.”

“I WILL.”

“be safe.”

“I WILL.”

With that, Papyrus opens the front door and walks away, shutting it tightly behind him. Sans melts back into the sofa. 

His brother really does mean everything to him. 

Eventually, he stands back up and pulls on his jacket and some sneakers in place of his slippers. He knows it’ll take a little bit out of him to get where he needs to go, so he takes a hotdog out of the fridge and shoves it in his pocket. It’ll have to do for now. 

He focuses for a second, letting his magic gather around him, feeling the void, and -- there. That’s as close as he can get. He blinks, opening his eyes in a park. Again. He comes out a little closer to the base of Mt. Ebott. Again. This is almost too much. He’s at the base of it. One more time. He comes out in Snowdin, a now empty town. There, not too far away, is his house. Just as he left it. He pulls the hotdog from his pocket and shoves it in his mouth while his other hand flips through his keyring until he finds the small silver key. He walks around to the back of the house and unlocks the door leading down into his lab.

His secret lab. How mad scientist-y. 

He shuts the door behind him, kicking the snow off of his shoes and trading his hoodie for a white lab coat. Papyrus said to be productive, so he may as well try to get some work done. He removes the tarp from the machine and crumples it lazily in the far corner. He looks over at the blueprints, then at his notes that he’d left scattered across the counter.

He wishes he had a little more room to work with, but there’s no way in hell he’s moving this thing again. It was a big enough pain in the ass the first time.

Not to mention, he doesn’t really want to have to deal with the questions it would bring up. 

He wishes that he hadn’t slacked off while they were making this thing. He wishes he had taken more notes, paid more attention to what the royal scientist had been saying. He wishes that Alphys had some kind of memory of it, because she could be a lot of help. He would ask her -- she still has the knowhow and a knack for figuring things out much quicker than he can -- but he doesn’t want to recount that…  _ painful  _ history. Especially not with her. She’s had it hard enough this timeline. 

Though, sometimes, he swears that she remembers, based on things that she says in the lab. Sometimes, she sounds just like him.

Sans drops his screwdriver and wills his hands to stop shaking. He picks it back up, sucks in a breath, and dives back in. 

But, no, something doesn’t feel right. 

And it doesn’t have to do with…  _ him _ . 

He thinks hard for a moment, watching his hands shake, feeling his Soul tighten with anxiety. Something is  _ wrong _ . Something is wrong and bad and he can’t place where he’s felt this feeling before until he thinks a little harder -- not in this timeline, somewhere else -- and then it clicks.

Papyrus. 

Sans sheds the lab coat and grabs his hoodie, hardly pushing his arms into the sleeves before pulling his magic together and jumping. He’s felt this feeling so many times before, when something  _ bad _ happened to Papyrus. But never,  _ never _ has he felt it in a timeline where they made it to the surface. 

But this timeline is a complete oddball. He’s never seen one like this before. It’s new and terrifying because he doesn’t know what to expect. 

He wasn’t expecting this, that’s for sure. 

He jumps a few more times, trying to bring himself closer to where Papyrus said he was going. He searches for his brother; being siblings, they’re just a little more sensitive to each other’s magic than they are with other monsters. It’s easier to identify each other that way. He searches and pushes out with his magic and jumps but he just - can’t - feel him. 

But there you are. And you’re distressed.

Sans lets himself out where you are, ignoring his phone vibrating in his pocket. You’re standing, one hand over your mouth, tears on your cheeks, your stance completely rigid. He can hardly pay attention to you, though, not when he sees what you’re staring at. 

…

Sans thought this timeline was supposed to be safe. He thought that, because nothing went terribly wrong in the beginning, everything would be okay. He thought that he and his brother could have a happy life on the surface. He thought it would stay okay even though the cult reared its ugly head. Apparently not.

And his scarf -- oh, his scarf. Sans cradles it to his face after removing it from the neighboring car, sinking to his knees in front of the pile of dust. Not again. 

He can’t keep watching his brother die. He can’t. 

But this time, he can’t even bring himself to get mad. He can’t do anything to stop the tears pricking at the corners of his eye sockets. 

He’s never wanted a reset so badly. 

…

It's okay. 

There’s something bright, orange and shining, nearby. It’s scared. It’s becoming relieved but it’s still terrified. Sans stands and turns around, still clutching the scarf tightly. Before he can even look up, he’s being swept into an embrace.

And not the squishy human kind.

“BROTHER, YOU TOLD ME TO BE SAFE, BUT I WAS NOT THINKING. I SHOULD HAVE GOTTEN THE HUMAN TO SAFETY AS WELL.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never said it would be all sunshine and happiness, pals.  
> Do you guys hate me yet? I disappear for almost two weeks and then come back with this shit. I'm so sorry. I cried writing it, not gonna lie.  
> [Tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)


	17. That Was Mister, Not Onii-Chan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we shed some light on the Papyrus Incident(TM), and the fic's beta's commentary on anime becomes the chapter title.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so, I know I normally respond to every comment on every chapter, because that's the cool thing to do, and because I love and care about you guys, but I can really only apologize so many times. I've added a "death scare" TW tag instead of doing the character death archive warning, because technically, no main character died.   
> Again, sorry, and without further ado, happy reading.

Breathe. 

You need to  _ not vomit _ and breathe and steady yourself before Sans answers the phone so you can tell him that--

Oh god. 

It starts to ring. You blink and realize there was no need to call him. 

He's right there, wide sockets staring at you, but you can't even look at him. Not when he's standing so close to--

_ Swallow _ . Now is not the time to puke. 

He follows your gaze, and your heart shatters. He just kind of… stands there for a moment. His bones are  _ actually rattling _ as he takes his brother's scarf from the neighboring car and holds it to his face. He sinks to his knees and completely buries his face in the red fabric. 

Sans just sits there and shakes, and you can't do much to comfort him. Not when you're choking on air and biting back sobs. You want to reach out, to say something reassuring. Maybe it's not who you think it is. Maybe there was some freak accident and--

It's not Papyrus. 

It can't be. 

Not when he's nervous and shaking and looking at you from across the parking lot and moving over to his brother. Sans doesn't look up, but he stills and stands to turn. Papyrus closes the distance, hardly looking at you, and wraps his brother into a tight hold. 

“BROTHER, YOU TOLD ME TO BE SAFE, BUT I WAS NOT THINKING. I SHOULD HAVE GOTTEN THE HUMAN TO SAFETY AS WELL.” 

Sans melts into his brother and makes a strangled sound. Papyrus hums and flicks his gaze over to you. He reaches out with one arm and touches your shoulder. You take a step forward and let him pull you in as well. 

Everything is okay. It's all okay. 

The tall skeleton keeps the two of you close for a few moments, breathing deeply until your breath matches. He steps away, much to Sans’ apparent dismay; the shorter brother clings desperately for another moment before taking a breath and letting go. 

“what happened?” he asks. 

Papyrus shifts his gaze around a bit and places his hands on his hips. “NYEH. I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS. MUST FIRST COMPLETE THE MISSION THAT I CAME HERE TO DO. COME, HUMAN, WE MUST RETRIEVE THE TREE FOR YOUR CAT.”

“Papyrus, that isn't important right now,” you say. “Please, what--”

“SANS, WILL YOU CALL TORIEL AND INFORM HER THAT THERE IS AN ANONYMOUS FUNERAL THAT NEEDS TO BE DONE?” Papyrus takes your shoulders and turns you towards the apartment building. “I WILL RECOUNT THE EVENTS WHEN SHE IS PRESENT SO I ONLY HAVE TO DO IT ONCE.”

“ok.” Sans pulls his phone from his pocket and gives you a wary glance. 

“NOW, HUMAN, LET'S HEAD UPSTAIRS.”

Papyrus is uncharacteristically silent on the way up to your apartment, but considering the circumstances, you don't blame him. You don't have much to say, either. You're just glad he's okay. Sans follows a few feet behind the two of you, sharing a hushed conversation with Toriel over the phone. He hangs up when you reach your door and unlock it. 

The cat tree isn't that big - it'll fit in the back of your car as long as you take it apart. You really only asked Papyrus along to keep you company, and you're kicking yourself for that. Still, he works with you in relative silence, occasionally asking questions. Sans stands quietly near the door, watching you and his brother intently. He seems to be his normal relaxed self, but you can tell that his grin is strained. 

You don't think he's going to be letting Papyrus out of his sight anytime soon. 

It doesn’t take long for you to get the cat tree disassembled and back down to your car. When you look beside Papyrus’ car, the dust is gone. Sans tells you quietly that Toriel already came by and took care of everything. You hesitate before getting into your car, watching Sans and Papyrus take their seats in the red sports car. Papyrus gives you a sweet smile and a thumbs up, and Sans offers a slow wink. You give your own weak smile through the closed window and rest your forehead against the steering wheel for a moment. 

Papyrus is okay. He’s alive and well and you can breathe easy now.

At least, easy-ish. There was still a monster that got murdered a little too close to home. 

You lift your head back up and start the car, looking over one last time as Papyrus backs out of his spot. You decide to stay behind him, for your own peace of mind if nothing else. For the first time in a long while, you don’t even bother turning on your car radio; you focus on focusing, on breathing and reminding yourself that Papyrus is okay.

Papyrus is okay. Papyrus is okay.

You pull up to the curb outside of Toriel’s house, and the skeleton brothers come over to help you bring the pieces into the house. Toriel, who meets you at the front door with a rather solemn expression, instructs you to set it up in the far corner of the front room. Once it’s put together and you bring Neo into the room (he seems pleased and starts scratching it right away), you follow your monster friends into the living room where Asgore waits on one of the couches. Toriel joins him, and you take a seat on the other couch, Papyrus between you and Sans. 

“Words cannot express how glad I am to know you are safe,” the monster queen starts. “But please, Papyrus, tell us what happened.” 

Papyrus shifts in his seat for a moment, sitting up a little straighter. Sans nudges him lightly with his shoulder, and the tall skeleton looks back over to the other couch. 

“W-WELL, IT WENT SOMETHING LIKE THIS.”

* * *

 

After scolding Sans for being lazy and practically begging him (in a demanding sort of way) to do something even remotely productive, Papyrus loops his scarf loosely around his neck and heads out to his car. He’s got a cat tree to help move, and while he’s a little unsure of what that exactly entails (he doesn’t have very much experience with the surface’s feline companions and their needs), he’s always happy to help a friend. And, well, you, the human, are one of his best friends. He’d do anything to help you out.

Besides, you care for his brother. A lot. And Papyrus wants nothing more than for his brother to find happiness. Stars knows he needs to.

He feels a strange sort of tension as he pulls into the parking structure. You’re not there yet. He takes his usual spot next to the small black sedan owned by one of your neighbors and shuts off the engine. He’ll just sit here and wait for you. It shouldn’t be that long of a wait, he figures, looking at the time on his phone. It’s about noon. You should only be a few more minutes, and even then, you’ll be apologizing up and down for being late. The thought of it brings a fond smile to his face. You really are an interesting human.

The tension only increases the longer he waits. He soon hears footsteps, slowly getting faster, nearer. He unbuckles and opens the door, prepared to… something. He’s prepared to do something, but he’s not sure what. He vowed not to hurt any humans or other monsters unless it was an extreme emergency.  

He turns his head when he feels a presence, another monster, their Soul weak and fluttering. He doesn’t see them. He barely turns his head before he watches the Soul shatter and the body become a pile of dust. What he does see is a small group of people, all in red hoodies with various masks. 

He registers that there’s no Froggit masks before he leaps from his car and vaults over the neighboring one. He’s going to have to run away, and while it’s very un-Royal Guardsman-like, he’s sure Undyne will allow it this one time. There’s no way he can deal with all of them. Not when they have the intent to kill him, not when one manages to pull his scarf from his neck. It’s not safe, it’s not safe, and he only stops when he’s two blocks away. He slips into a narrow alley and presses his back against the wall, feeling his Soul fill with anxiety and fear.

And shame.

_ The human _ .

You would be there in a few minutes, and he knows that. He should have stayed closer and gotten you to safety. He mentally chastises himself, but heaves a sigh and closes his eyes. 

Sans had tried to explain his teleportation to him a few times, very briefly. He would search for a point in space that he could reach, which was easier if he could sense a familiar Soul in that area. While Papyrus isn’t as skilled in reaching out and finding Souls other than Sans’, he can feel you very faintly. He’s a bit impressed with himself, considering that there’s some distance between you. He can barely pick out your distress, but he can tell that you’re okay. But maybe… maybe he should wait.

Sans will come, won’t he?

Sans has always known when something was wrong, and Papyrus isn’t sure if that’s because his older brother is always searching for his Soul, or if it’s just some kind of weird, monster-sibling ability. The two of them have always been a little more sensitive to each other’s magic, a little more able to pick each other out of a crowd based on Soul alone. 

Sans will come. Sans will be there, and Papyrus wants to be there to reassure his brother as soon as possible. He gathers his courage and starts to head back. 

He feels a stressed explosion as he enters the parking structure, and he sees Sans falling to his knees, red fabric pressed to his face. He teleported again, and he didn’t do it safely. He’s going to end up regretting that later, and then he’ll just become more lazy, trying to conserve his magic. 

Papyrus looks over at you; your hand is over your mouth, and from what he can feel from your Soul, you’re trying to hold yourself together. He locks eyes with you, trying to shove his anxiety back down deep into his Soul, and he moves over to Sans.

You’ll be fine, but this... He’s never seen his brother like this. So broken, so upset. 

Sans must sense him at this point, because he stands and turns in time for Papyrus to pull him close. Finally, Papyrus’ Soul calms a bit. 

He really does rely on his brother more than he’d like to admit.

* * *

 

Silence.

“You did not see the monster that..?” Toriel says quietly.

Papyrus shakes his head. “I DID NOT. I WISH I HAD SO THAT WE COULD DO A PROPER FUNERAL.”

“Do not blame yourself for anything,” Asgore tells him. “You did what you had to do. Did you see where this group of people went?”

Again, he shakes his head, letting it hang a little bit. You squeeze his hand and offer him a small smile. He returns it tentatively. 

“I AM JUST GLAD THAT MY BROTHER CAME SO QUICKLY.”

Sans sinks back into the couch a bit further and shrugs. You know what he’s thinking.

If something  _ had _ happened to Papyrus, Sans would have done something that Toriel wouldn’t have approved of. Honestly, you don’t think that you would have stopped him if that were the case, either. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This concludes our cinnamon-roll angst! I love you guys, and hopefully I'll be a little more on track from now on. I know I'm a day late again. But I quit one of my jobs in preparation for the new semester coming up, and hopefully I'll be able to get a bit ahead so that there's no lack of content while I'm crying over school.   
> [Tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)


	18. Edumacation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the university in this fic may or may not be based on the one I go to.

You were right. Sans has hardly let Papyrus out of his sight since the… incident. He follows his little brother around when he’s not working, and even when he is, he’s using his breaks to check on him. You’re glad that the tall skeleton is safe, but he seems a little uncomfortable with all of the attention his older brother has been giving him. It’s very unlike Sans.

You had done a quick inventory on all of the monsters you know personally, just to be sure that it wasn't any of them that had been, well,  _ dusted _ , as Sans called it. Since Papyrus hadn't seen who it was, it's been a little hectic trying to figure out who it was. All of the normal patrons at Grillby’s, as well as Grillby himself, are all accounted for. All of the monster children are just fine, and so are all of your close friends. Thank the universe.

Still, it’s a little unsettling that Toriel has only just now texted you, almost a week later, to tell you that she thinks she knows who met their unfortunate end. You’re unsure of why she’s texting you when the two of you live under the same roof, but you figure she just wants to ensure that you know right away, considering she’s attending to her matriarchal duties and you’re… well…

You’re a little unsure of what you’re going to say to your advisor right about now.

Frisk is buckled tightly into the back seat of your car, and you have your music playing much quieter than normal, even though you know the child can’t hear it. Maybe it’s for your own piece of mind. You’re not sure. You know that you’ll need to maintain the slight calm that you have right now, though, since you have to meet with your advisor. You’re unsure of how he’ll react when you tell him the exact circumstances of your incomplete student teaching. You’re also unsure of how he’ll react to seeing the child you were hired to help in your care. That last part can’t be helped, though, considering you’re the only one home with Frisk all day, teaching them the material that Mrs. Anderson sends to you via email. 

You have all of your paperwork from the school as well as copies of your transcripts and schedules from the last few semesters. You brought along the plan you came up with for what comes after your student teaching as far as graduating and getting your degree. You’re not sure that your advisor will need all of that, since he probably has copies stored somewhere in his computer or the massive file cabinets in his office, but you figure it’s better to be safe than sorry.

Especially because he could very well be upset with you right now, and he’s a bit terrifying when upset.

You pull into one of the parking lots, thankful that your parking hangtag hasn’t expired yet, and shoulder your bag. You move around to take Frisk’s hand as they get out of the car, and you peer up at the large building in front of you. This is going to take a little more than just staying calm. It’s going to take willpower, and the first step is to enter the building and get into the elevator. 

Once you’re inside, you realize that you kind of miss being here every day. There’s a fair amount of people, but not so many that it’s overwhelming. Everyone sticks in small groups near the walls, leaving the center of the wide hallways open to walk in. You head to the center area of the ground floor and press the elevators’ call button. The one to the far right dings and opens, and you head in along with a group of students. Frisk holds tightly to your hand, but you reach the seventh floor with no issues. 

Well, the only issue is your crippling anxiety, but you’ll just have to shove that down and ignore it for now, at least as well as you can. 

You lead Frisk to the office labelled 720A, the room housing your advisor, Dr. Philip Jenkins. You knock lightly before opening the already slightly ajar door and peering inside.

Philip is an older man, his hair thin and silver, though he can’t be bothered to attempt a combover. He’s a firm believer that his lack of hair is a sign of his wisdom, and he leaves it that way. Aside from that, he’s a mild tempered man who looks more frail than he actually is. Large, round glasses perch on his thin, crooked nose, and he looks up at you as he adjusts them.

“Well, I’ll be,” he says. “If it isn’t one of my favorite students. Come sit.”

You do as he says without question, closing the door and watching Frisk climb up into the chair next to you. Philip leans his elbows on the desk and rests his chin on top of his interlaced fingers. 

“I was not aware you had a child,” he comments wistfully. You shake your head.

“This is Frisk, and they’re actually the child I was hired to help,” you admit. 

“Jumping into an explanation without even saying hello?” He chuckles, leaning back in his office chair again. “I’m interested in hearing your side of the story. The school already told me theirs when they called to inform me you had been, as they said, terminated from your position.”

You draw in a long breath and launch into your prepared explanation, telling him all about how accepting and wonderful your monster friends were and still are, how they insisted on including you in their affairs because Frisk liked you so much. You tell him about the cult, the break-in at the school (though you leave out the part about breaking into the school yourself), and the break-in at your apartment. You tell him that Toriel and Asgore were not taking no for an answer in regards to you staying with them for a while, and you were waiting on the locks for your apartment to be changed (which, by the way, you need to call the locksmith - you still haven’t heard from them). Then you were, how they put it,  _ terminated _ from your position. 

Philip nods along, and once you’re finished, he clears his throat. “That matches pretty well with the school’s version, aside from the fact that they were pretty clear to insinuate that you’ve been shacking up with one of the monsters in question.”

You scoff, throwing him a hard glare, and he chuckles again. 

“As if that makes a difference,” he goes on, picking up a pen from his desk and tapping it on the dark-stained wood. “The point is, you were terminated before you could finish your student teaching.”

“And I’m here to figure out what that means,” you say. “How far back does this put me?”

“Not too far,” he tells you, sifting through a few documents on his desk. He pulls his own copy of your EDP. “We can get you back on track. You finished all of your required classes already, so this is the last step. We’ll have to get in another application for next semester.” 

You sigh. Of course you’ll have to start over. You need a full semester, and starting over is the only way that you’ll be able to get it done without having to jump through too many hoops. Besides, Philip has been doing this for much longer than you have. You trust his judgement.

“It’ll have to be for a different school,” you say.

“Naturally,” he says. “The application deadline is tomorrow, though. You already have two other schools picked out, so I can take care of the rest. You’ll just have to sign it.”

“Thank you, Philip,” you breathe, a little less stressed now that he’s shown you the solution. 

“Being pushed back one more semester isn’t so bad,” he murmurs, tapping at his keyboard. “Just means you get to spend another semester answering to me.”

You smile at that, then watch him pull something off of the printer. You sign the bottom of the new student teaching application and pick it up. 

“I'll run this downstairs on my way out,” you say. “Thank you again for helping me out. This was a lot more painless than I expected.”

“Glad I could keep you from tearing any more of your hair out,” he replies. 

You nod and share your short goodbyes, promising to keep in touch with him a little bit better than you have been. You figure you can take the stairs down to the floor below to turn in the application, and Frisk follows without any question. 

Actually, the kid has been oddly quiet today, taking in their surroundings. You've been told that Frisk often gets a bit nervous in new places, since they haven't had a chance to explore everything yet. You keep them close to your side to be safe. They smile up at you when you squeeze their hand a little tighter. 

You drop your application with the main office’s secretary and, after a brief explanation and some reassurance that things happen sometimes and it's alright, you lead Frisk back towards the elevators. You select the ground floor and wait for the doors to shut. 

“W-wait! Hold that elevator!”

Your arm shoots out to stop the doors from closing, and you watch a small, yellow monster rush in holding way too many papers and notebooks. She starts shoving them into her backpack haphazardly and adjusts her glasses before looking up at you. 

“T-thank you-- oh! W-what a coincidence.” She grins. 

“Hi, Alphys,” you say, grinning back. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“It's not a r-regular occurrence to s-see you on campus. U-unless you're at my h-house.” She slings her backpack over her shoulders again. 

“I had to reapply for student teaching,” you tell her. “The whole school throwing a fit over me staying with Toriel and Asgore thing has set me back a semester. Not that it's a huge deal.”

“That's awful,” she mutters. “Oh! H-hey, I'm actually a-about to head out to my l-lab. Would you t-two want to, uh, come with? F-frisk has been asking about it.”

You can’t get a word out before Frisk starts nodding vigorously. The elevator doors open, and Alphys steps out first, turning to beam at you brighter than you’ve seen her before. You can’t help but smile back at her. 

“Of course we’ll go with you,” you tell her. “It’s been awhile since we’ve seen each other. It’ll be nice.” 

She breathes a sigh of relief.You follow the small monster from the building and start walking in the general direction of the science complex. You easily keep up with her quick pace and watch Frisk as they look around almost frantically. They seem excited, squeezing your hand when they see a particularly interesting… thing. There’s quite a few very diverse groups, and Frisk seems to enjoy the groups made up of a mix of monsters and humans the most. At least some people can get along well enough. It’s a bit of a relief to you as well.

The science complex is one of the more modern buildings on campus, with windows almost encompassing the entire front wall of the first floor. Aside from the occasional psychology class you've had to take, you haven't spent much time in this building. There's display cases with discoveries and other interesting things from a few of the departments lining the other side of the hall. You spot one of the lecture halls you've had a class in before and slowly realize you've never been anywhere but the first floor. 

Alphys leads you down one of the hallways leading further into the building and gestures to the exposed stairwell. “I-it’s just downstairs,” she tells you.

You suppose that makes sense, considering that's the only other floor with suitable exits. Hooray for split-level buildings. The lower floor is almost barren in terms of decoration in comparison the the one above, the white walls matching the linoleum floors and only breaking the monotone where a thick wooden door has been placed. A few of the labs have windows looking into them, and in one you can see a couple of people working on some sort of project. Based on the materials they’re using, you can guess it’s probably something to do with chemistry. 

A bit further down the hall, Alphys turns to a door and fishes her ID from her pocket. When she runs it through the reader, you expect to hear the clicking of the lock moving, but you hear nothing. Alphys pockets her ID and looks at the door.

“I-it’s already unlocked,” she whispers. “I-I don’t know who else w-would try to come in h-here… Normally, they a-ask for my p-permission, first.”

“You weren’t expecting a visitor?” you ask. You have a bad feeling that this is going to turn out exactly how it did when you went home and found your apartment open. 

“N-no,” she says. “W-we should make sure that n-nothing is missing.”

“Right.” You look down at Frisk to make sure that they understand what’s happening - you’ve found it very useful knowing that they understand the monsters, since that makes it so that you don’t have to repeat everything that’s already been said (unless it’s your side of it). The child nods and squeezes your hand a little tighter, their expression riddled with concern. 

Silly Frisk, trying to reassure you. You smile at them the best you can and follow Alphys through the open door.

The lab is set up almost exactly the same as the others you peeked into; white linoleum floors and white walls with a ceiling to match. Alphys has the tables shoved haphazardly around the room, seemingly positioned in places that would make it easy for her to run from one task to the other with some sort of speed. You note the trash can overflowing with crumpled pieces of paper and instant noodle containers before you notice Alphys run to one of the center tables. 

“T-they’re gone!” she shouts frantically. “O-oh, no, Asgore is g-gonna… The d-department… S-s-sans…” 

“Woah, hey, breathe,” you coo, taking her shoulders and making her face you. You lead her through a few deep breaths and step back so that she can wipe the tears from her eyes. “What exactly is missing?” 

“M-m-my notes, from the l-lecture, they’re g-go-go--” She hiccups, burying her face in her hands. “I-I’ve been w-working on them f-for so l-long. T-they’re important! V-very i-important!” 

“How can they just be… gone? Do you know anyone who would want to take them?” you ask, trying to keep calm for her sake. You move to look at the table yourself. Open binders with pages torn from them line the table. You pick up a notebook from the middle and turn it over. 

There’s a yellow sticky note with a Froggit face drawn on it. 

“Don’t answer that,” you murmur, and she looks at you with a confused expression. You show her the sticky note. “Alphys, what were you working on that the cult might want access to?” 

“N-not anything  _ t-that _ important,” she whispers. “I-I mean, it’s important, yes, b-but I don’t t-think that they’d h-have any use for  _ this _ .” 

“What exactly is  _ this _ ?” you prod. She freezes and looks down, backing away a little. “No, Alph, I’m just trying to help. I want to figure this out and get your notes back.”

“C-can we call Sans?” she asks meekly. 

Sans? Her notes go missing and the first thing she wants to do is call Sans? You don't strike them as being very close friends; in fact, they seem to have a bit of tension between them that you're not sure you want to know about. You sigh and nod.

“Don't ask my permission,” you tell her. “Go ahead.”

Alphys shifts in place nervously. “U-um, can I ask y-you to do it?”

You pull your phone from your pocket, holding onto your patience, and dial Sans’ number. He picks up right as it's about to go to voicemail.

“ _ hey, pal. _ ”

“How fast can you get to Alphys' lab?” you ask. 

“ _ what happened? _ ”

“We have a, uh, Froggit Face-flavored predicament,” you tell him. 

You hear him suck in a breath and release it slowly. “ _five minutes,_ ” is all he says before hanging up. 

“Five minutes,” you repeat to Alphys, putting the cellphone away and looking over to Frisk, who is looking through the binders. 

Alphys nods and recedes into silence. You sit on one of the clear tables and watch the door. Five minutes, he said. At least she might talk to him, and then he could help figure out what was going on. Thankfully, you’ve learned that sometimes, there’s certain people Alphys would be comfortable going to when she needs them, and you’re not always that person. It’s easier to get who she needs and go from there.

Speaking of, you feel the familiar pull of magic before Sans appears, looking a little frazzled. “what happened?” he asks again, ignoring both you and Frisk and heading straight to Alphys. He stands a few feet away from her, hands shoved in his pockets like normal, but you notice the tension building in the air between them. 

Alphys looks down. “M-my notes were stolen,” she squeaks. 

“which ones?” He eyes one of the tables across the room, still covered in notes.

“Th-the ones about, u-uh, a-about the CORE, and t-t-the machine…”

“shit. shit shit shit.” Sans rubs a closed eye socket with the heel of his hand. “and you didn’t think to make any copies?”

“W-why would I make copies of s-something like that? I-it was personal research!”

“not personal enough, apparently,” he grumbles. “ok, look, alph, i’m not blamin’ you. this just… isn’t good. at all. we’re gonna have to find ‘em and get ‘em back.”

He moves to walk past you, and you give him a worried look. He glances up and sighs.

“you stay outta this,” he tells you. “ain’t your business.”

“You’re my friends. It’s kind of my business,” you argue. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Sans gives you a hard glare. “trust me, kid. this time, it’s got nothin’ to do with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -slithers out from under a blanket-  
> Oh yeah, here's your chapter.  
> Hopefully I'll get the one that's technically for today done before Thursday so I can get back on track. Kinda. A little.   
> Thank you, as always, for your support and patience <3   
> [Tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)


	19. Chocolate Milk is for Everyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the alternate title is "Shut the Fuck Up, Asgore, I'm an Adult and I'll Do What I Want."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **EDIT:** I made a tiny addition to the veeery end, just to make things make a little more sense. Happy reading!

Sans pushes past you, leaving the lab before teleporting again. He’s… probably right, you decide. It has nothing to do with you. It has to do with Alphys and science and the CORE and Sans, and none of those things are you.

You have to remember that you’re not the only one that the cult is after. It’s also after your monster friends as well, probably a little more actively than they are after you. For all you know, you’re just a crossing point, a way to get your friends to act. The idea of that bothers you, but you don’t think you can blame Sans for pushing you away. Maybe he’s just trying to keep you safe.

But then again, maybe he really just doesn’t want you trying to get involved.

You shake your head and take a deep breath. You’ll just have to trust them to get done what needs to be done, and hopefully this cult shenanigans will end sooner rather than later. You’ll just have to hold onto hope.

You look back to Alphys, who has a piece of paper held carefully in her shaking hands. She meets your gaze and shoves it into her pocket.

“I-I’m sorry,” she says. “I just w-wanted to show you w-what I was working on. I-I didn’t expect… this.”

“It’s not your fault,” you tell her, patting her shoulder as you come closer. “You and Sans will get it figured out, right? Maybe it’ll lead to the end of this.”

She looks down at her feet for a moment before giving you a nervous smile. “M-maybe you’re right.”

“Frisk and I should get going,” you tell her quietly. “I promised to have them home before Toriel got back.”

“Right. And I-I need to report this t-to the department,” she replies. “I’m sorry. N-next time we h-hang out, I-I’ll make sure there’s n-no break-ins.”

She laughs a little at her own joke and looks at you expectantly. You manage a smile while you gather Frisk. The child waves at her and heads towards the door. You hesitate for a second.

“Don’t worry so much,” you tell her. “I’m sure Sans knows what he’s doing.”

“I hope so,” she whispers as you leave the room.

Yeah. You hope so, too.

Frisk takes your hand again, and you walk with them back upstairs. What _is_ the CORE? You’ve heard Alphys and Sans both mention it a few times, usually in passing remarks, but you’ve never found out what it is. It’s safe to guess that it has to do with the Underground, which is another thing you don’t know too much about aside from what Frisk told you. Had they mentioned the CORE? You think back to that conversation. They mentioned ruins and places called Snowdin, Waterfall, and Hotland, respectively, but you don’t remember a mention of the CORE.

Does Frisk know what it is?

You look down at the child, who seems a little less interested in their surroundings now. You can feel their own concern radiating off of them.

Once back at the car, Frisk buckles into the back seat and promptly turns their attention out of the window. They're deep in thought, and you'd be lying if you said it didn't make you a little bit worried. This is the kid that somehow made it through the Underground and convinced every monster down there not to kill them. They're… persuasive, to say the least, and if they're hatching a plan, you're a little scared to see what it is.

But not before you're interested.

You pull up to Toriel’s house and unlock the door. You still have a few hours before Toriel and Asgore return home, it seems. Frisk settles at the kitchen table with paper and crayons after retrieving Flowey from upstairs and signs a request for chocolate milk to you. You raise an eyebrow and sit across from them.

“ _Only if you answer a question for me without holding back_ ,” you sign.

Frisk nods and gets back to coloring. You’ll have to get them their drink before they’ll tell you what you want to know. Eight-year-olds know how to drive a hard bargain. You pull two glasses from the cupboard and mix chocolate syrup with the milk in both of them before sitting across from the child again. You set one in front of them, and they look up at you with a questioning gaze.

“ _What is the CORE_?” you ask, dropping your hands onto the table afterwards.

Frisk looks up at the ceiling for a moment, making a few uncertain gestures before finally settling on how to start their sentence. *” _It’s a big power plant in the Underground. I think Alphys and Sans worked on it. I had to go through it to get out._ ” They shrug. *” _That’s all I really know._ ”

You tilt your head. That information is a little bit… disappointing. You thought that Frisk would know a little more than what they do.

*” _Dad would know more about it,_ ” they offer when they see your expression. You smile at them.

You hear the front door open, and you decide to hold off on any more questions for a moment. Asgore waltzes into the room, smiling over at you.

“Chocolate milk?” he asks in a teasing tone.

“Chocolate milk is a perfectly acceptable beverage for all ages,” you tell him simply.

“ _Tea_ is a perfectly acceptable beverage for all ages,” he replies, setting the kettle on the stove. “What are the two of you talking about? You look very serious.”

“Frisk was just telling me a little bit more about the Underground,” you tell him. “About the CORE in particular.”

Asgore turns and smiles at you. “The CORE is very important to the Underground, and by far one of the most well-conceived plans our old royal scientist had. It converted geothermal energy into magical electricity, uh, somehow. Alphys would be able to tell you the details.” He busies himself taking a cup from the cupboard. “It powers the entire Underground.”

“Where did you hear about the CORE, my child?” Toriel asks, taking on of the chairs next to Frisk. “I do not recall telling you about it.”

“Alphys mentioned it briefly when we ran into her on campus today,” you say. You decide against mentioning that her notes were stolen or that her lab was broken into. Sans was already taking care of things.

“What an odd thing to casually mention,” she breathes. “Not that it is a bad thing. It is natural for you to learn more about the Underground when you are surrounded by so many of us that lived there.”

You hear the front door open once more, clicking shut quietly. Feet shuffle across the hardwood and stop right behind you. The hand that ghosts across the back of your neck doesn’t even scare you. Not this time. You were expecting it.

“Try coming up a little quieter next time,” you say, turning in your seat. “I could hear you from a mile away.”

“you complain when i don’t make a sound, you complain when i do. what do you want me to do?” Sans shrugs and grins at you. His bitter mood from not too much earlier seems to be gone. Either that, or he’s a great actor.

“Not sneak up on me,” you reply simply. “It’s not as fun for me as it is for you.”

He hums, but says nothing. Toriel gives him a sweet smile and watches Asgore pour hot water into his teacup.

“Now that everyone is present,” she starts, assuming her commanding tone. Frisk even looks up. “Asgore and I have to leave town for the weekend. We have a long-awaited conference with the human government, and it is something we need to take very seriously.” She looks at Frisk. “I must ask that the two of you stay here and continue Frisk’s lessons. Sans has agreed to look after you.”

Once again, Sans is your babysitter. You do your best not to look annoyed at the idea, but instead smile over at Toriel.

*” _But I’m the ambassador! I have to go with!”_ Frisk signs in protest, pouting at their mom.

“Not this time, little one,” Asgore says, ruffling their hair as he sits beside them. “Your education comes first.”

They take their glass and spitefully chug the rest of their chocolate milk, signing something with one hand about it being better than tea. Asgore almost looks genuinely offended. Sans chuckles.

“It is still early enough for us to leave, so we will be heading out once Asgore has finished his tea,” Toriel goes on, ignoring the display beside her. “We will be home Sunday evening. I have already done the shopping, so there should be nothing to worry about in our absence.”

“They’ll be taken care of,” you assure her, nodding towards Frisk. “Don’t spend the whole conference worrying about us.”

She lets out a short laugh and beams at you. “Yes, that is something I would do, isn’t it?”

“i got this, tori,” Sans says, leaning his arms on the back of your chair. “have i ever let you down before?”

She raises a brow at him, amused. “Surprisingly, no,” she answers after a moment. “You fulfilled your promise to me last time, and I expect no less from you now.”

Asgore walks his cup to the sink and heads upstairs, presumably to gather their belongings. Toriel stands as well, spouting goodbyes and  lifting Frisk into a tight hug before walking around to the table to do the same to you. She’s warm and smells like lavender. As Asgore comes back down with a suitcase in either hand, she follows him to the door.

“Be good, alright?” she says before leaving. The door shuts lightly behind them.

*” _I wanted to go with_ ,” Frisk signs, still pouting.

“ _You heard Asgore. Your education is important_ ,” you sign back. They groan.

*” _You can’t be my sister anymore. You’re boring,_ ” they sign decidedly, turning on their heel and walking away.

You hum and look at Sans, who has started heading towards the couch. “So? What now, royal babysitter?”

“i dunno about you, but i’m sleeping,” he says a little gruffly.  “don’t exactly wanna be here.”

“Then don’t be,” you say. “I can watch Frisk on my own.”

“s’not safe,” he mutters, dropping himself onto the couch.

“I thought the latest installment of cult nonsense had nothing to do with me?”

You bite your tongue. That came out much harsher than it was meant to, and odds are, he’s going to think you’re picking a fight. Great job. You prepare yourself for the backlash that will probably come from him being so on edge.

“it doesn’t,” he says, but he doesn’t sound mad, or even annoyed. He sounds almost… sad? “it’s personal. you don’t need to worry about it.”

“I’ll worry just because you’re my friend,” you tell him. “But you’re right. I don’t know anything about this. I’ll just have to trust that you know what you’re doing.”

He looks at you with an almost bewildered expression. He inhales a few times like he’s going to say something before finally just settling on a relaxed grin and a slow wink.

“thanks, pal,” he says.

“Great. Good. Now come help me win back Frisk’s affection,” you say, looking over your shoulder at where Frisk is sitting at the table. They’re glowering at you while Flowey hisses encouragement at them. You raise an eyebrow and look back at the skeleton. “What’s Flowey’s story?”

“no clue,” he says noncommittally. “the kid knows.”

You take that as means to win them back over (though you’re sure their anger will be short lived; it’s not the first time they decided that you can’t be their sister anymore) and move to slide into the seat next to them. They follow you with their hard gaze. It’s pretty cute.

“ _Tell me about Flowey_ ,” you sign.

“Don’t tell her _anything_ about me,” the flower spits. “She’s not your sister anymore, remember? You don’t have to tell her anything.”

Frisk pouts and looks between you and the flower for a moment. You just smile and nod.

*” _Flowey is my friend,_ ” they sign. “ _That’s all there really is to say._ _He tried to kill me but then he helped break the Barrier._ ”

You give them a small nod and look back to Flowey.

“See, that’s not so bad, huh?” you say. “Were you afraid that they were going to tell some dirty secret you’re hiding?”

Flowey shrinks away from you for a moment, but his face is soon glazed with disgust. “What’s with that ring, human?”

You look down at your hand. Oh, right, the skeleton ring. You wear it so often that you sometimes forget to take it off at night. It’s become a part of your daily routine.

“A friend got it for me. What of it?”

“Looks to me like a little more than just a gift,” he goes on, his tone losing its venom and gaining hints of confusion and distaste. “Looks to me like Smiley Trashbag laid claim to you.”

You furrow your brow. Now it feels like you have to explain yourself to a flower. Even if it _is_ just a gift from Kendra, a little joke to immortalize the time you may or may not have made a vaguely sexual pass at a skeleton you barely knew, you seem to be getting a lot of comments about it seeming like it was Sans’ idea.  Flowey smirks and takes advantage of your silence, continuing with a dramatic sigh.

“If he _did_ , that’s disgusting. Why would any monster want to mate--”

You feel a burst of magic behind you, and Flowey looks on in terror. You can feel Sans standing there, rigid, some kind of emotion radiating off of him that you can’t place.

“maybe we should find something else to do,” he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I go back through my chapters and wonder what the fuck I was thinking.  
> Come tell me what the fuck I was thinking at my [tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com).


	20. Nobody Guessed it was the Candelabra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which this is mostly based off of the author's experience playing Clue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we start, I just want to point out that I've changed it so that I'm only updating on Mondays. Aside from the fact that I'm clearly having a hard time making sure that I'm hitting my deadlines that I've set for myself, I have a busy semester starting next week and I won't have nearly as much time to write (or procrastinating writing). This will just be a little easier, and I'll be able to ensure that I'm getting my chapters out this way.  
> Happy reading!

You’re not sure if you should feel the sting of slight rejection or relief that you don’t have to listen to the rest of the flower’s sentence about mating. You can only imagine the look on Sans’ face - angry, perhaps with that menacing glow in his right eye socket. You chance it and turn a little to look at him. He looks angry, but he also looks a little… nervous? Sweat beads across his skull and a light blue flush adorns his cheekbones. 

Embarrassed. That’s an emotion you’re more than acquainted with. 

“c’mon, kiddo, i think we’ve got board games,” he goes on, ruffling Frisk’s hair. 

The child follows him over to the closet in the front room, and you share a sharp glare with Flowey. 

“Can we refrain from pissing Sans off, please?” you ask. 

You’ve never heard a flower cackle at you, and you’re not sure that you ever want to hear it again. 

“Oh  _ please _ , with how he reacted, I must be right,” he says in a sweet voice, feigning innocence. “The two of you should just be honest!” 

“Honest about what? There’s nothing to be honest about, and I’m not going to admit anything to a flower,” you say, tapping a finger against the base of his pot. “Now, we’re going to play board games and it’s going to be some good, clean family fun, and you’re going to keep your trap shut.” 

Flowey recoils at your harsh words and falls silent. Frisk and Sans wander back over to the table with a few board game boxes, which are set down at one end. Frisk claims the seat at the end of the table, and gestures for you and Sans to take either of their sides. Flowey remains in the center of the table, at the other end of where a board would be placed. Sans avoids looking at both you and the centerpiece. 

*” _ Monopoly, _ ” Frisk signs. You oblige and get the board, assuming the role of banker right away and handing Sans all of the property cards. 

It’s going to be a long night. 

The first pass around the board is always civil enough, what with nobody being allowed to buy any properties. Sans starts out acting as he normally would: messing around with the cards and deliberately taking a long time giving anyone the cards they bought, as well as trying to barter down the rent he has to pay for landing on any of Frisk’s properties. Once you monopolize the transportation, utilities, and ending side of the board, however, he seems to snap out of his playful stupor and get serious. 

Frisk, on the other hand, is much better at this game than you would expect. They buy up one side of the board by offering trades that neither of you can turn down and starts taking all of your funds. Sans is the first to declare bankruptcy, much to your surprise and his distaste. After a few hours, Frisk is crowned the winner. They demand a pizza as a reward, so dinner for the night is delivered half an hour into their victory speech.

You move on to Clue, which Sans seems excited about. He chooses to be Colonel Mustard every single round, because he “just can’t say no to condiments”. He wins the first few rounds (“it’s all logic”), giving you hell when Mrs. Peacock (your chosen piece) turns out to be the culprit. The newest round has been going for about fifteen minutes, and it’s your turn. You inspect your note sheet. It’s between two people, but you’ve narrowed it down to the correct room and weapon. 

It’s safe to strike.

“don’t tell me it’s you who’s guilty again,” Sans says teasingly, resting his jaw in his palm and grinning at you. “wanna go ahead and give me the win?”

You shoot him a glare and take a breath. “Colonel Mustard in the kitchen with the candelabra.” 

He stares at you, his expression a mixture of startled and amused. “you really think i’d do something like that?” 

Frisk bounces in their chair, radiating excitement and shoving more pizza into their mouth. 

“Sans, you said it yourself, this game is entirely logic, and right now, logic dictates that it’s Colonel Mustard in the kitchen with the candelabra,” you tell him, reaching for the “Confidential” envelope. He gives you a hard look as you open it and look at the cards.

Kitchen.

Candelabra.

...Colonel Mustard.

Triumphantly, you slam the cards down on the board and grin over at Sans. His grin widens.

“you caught me,” he says, holding up his hands. 

You look over at the time on the stove clock. It's getting pretty late - Frisk is going to have to go to bed soon whether they like it or not. You slide out of your seat and place the empty pizza box by the trash can before crouching next to Frisk and tapping their shoulder. 

“You should get your pajamas on and take Flowey upstairs,” you sign. When they pout at you, you continue, “You can pick out a movie to watch before you have to go to bed.”

They seem pretty satisfied with the idea, you guess, judging by how quickly they jump up and grab Flowey. They bolt upstairs, leaving you and Sans with the mess of board game bits scattered across the table by their excitement. You start gathering the player pieces and placing them in their bag. 

“need some help?” Sans asks, folding his arms on the table and resting his chin on them. 

“You wouldn't do anything even if I asked,” you tell him, giving him a small smile as you drop the pieces in the box beside him. You get to work collecting the cards. 

“looks like you've got it _ in the bag _ ,” he says with a half-hearted chuckle. You toss the bag of cards more at his face than you do at the box. It barely brushes past his nasal cavity before landing in its home. He looks slightly offended. 

He unleashes a few more puns within the few minutes that it takes you to finish packing up the game, and it's almost relieving. He hasn't been in too good of a humor since… Papyrus. Him poking fun at you and seemingly enjoying doing it can only be a good thing. So, you play along, letting yourself laugh at the terrible jokes. It's nice to watch him just relax for once.

You're not sure you've ever seen him totally relaxed before.

Frisk comes barreling down the stairs after a few more minutes, carrying a DVD case and just about ramming into you when they slip and slide across the wood floor in their socks. You reach out to catch them and help them get steady. They hold up the DVD case to you and make an insistent grunt.

“again?” Sans asks, raising a brow bone. “we watched that not too long ago.”

Frisk shoves it in his face.

“fine, fine, slightly offensive monster movie,” he says, ruffling their hair as he stands. He takes the movie from them and heads for the family room. Instead of making it all the way to set up the movie, he plops down on the couch and holds it out to you. “you mind?”

Frisk ends up being the one to snatch it back from his hand and set up the movie. You sit on the opposite end of the couch from your skeleton friend and draw your feet up onto the cushion with you, preparing yourself for another showing of Monsters Inc. The child settles down between the two of you and snuggles into your side.

By the time the movie is over, Frisk is dozing off and you have to gently shake them by the shoulder to get their attention. They look up at you with bleary eyes and try to wipe away their sleepiness.

"looks like it's bedtime, kiddo," Sans mumbled, stretching his arms above him as he sits up. You spend half a second trying to figure out when he woke up - he had been sleeping since the movie started. 

Frisk groans in protest, but stands and shuffles towards the stairs. They stop, come back to hug you and Sans, then disappear upstairs. You busy yourself with putting away the movie and turning on some trash TV.

"You can probably go now that they're going to bed," you tell Sans. "I probably won't be staying up much later, either."

"s'not safe," he tells you. "i promised tori that i'd keep an eye on ya while she's gone."

"I take it that means you're going to be around all weekend?" 

"most likely," he says. "paps'll come by, too. maybe undyne and alphys." 

"I wasn't aware that we needed a full monster squad to look after us."

Sans chuckles at that and looks over at you as you sit back down. "tori seems to think so."

You shake your head. "She's too nice to me," you mumble. "This whole... situation? Meeting you guys and becoming friends with you and stuff, I mean. It's been really weird. Surreal? I don't think that this is normally how things go."

"i guess monsters are a little more tolerant than humans are," he says, looking back to the TV. "look, humans watch shows about one human screaming at another one. you think it's funny. most monsters think it's terrible."

You suddenly feel guilty about your choice of entertainment and turn off the television. 

"I guess watching stuff like that makes some of us feel... better?" you say in a small attempt to redeem yourself. "Seeing that there's people out there that have everything that they could ever want but are still shitty people with shitty lives makes some of us appreciate our, uh, intelligence a little more? It's easier to appreciate modesty when we can see that there's those who don't understand what that word means."

"i see." Sans shifts in his seat a little. "you don't gotta watch that stuff, though. you shouldn't have to see others making a fool of themselves to understand that you're a good person."

_ Ba-dump. _

Oh.

"i guess, uh, what i'm sayin' is, well..." He decidedly looks away from you. "maybe you should go to bed. you said you were tired."

You did not, in fact, say that you were tired. You said that you wouldn't stay up much longer. He's blushing, he's making a point not to look in your direction, he's saying nice things about you and feeling embarrassed about it. There's something there, hanging between you, making you almost want to reach out and touch him. You can feel your face heat, you hands shake a little bit. 

Maybe now is the best time to..?

"Sans, I--"

He jerks his head look look at you, his sockets wide. He looks... startled. He must have been lost in thought. 

You can't be sure that those thoughts were about you. 

"sans you what?" he asks quietly. He almost sounds scared.

"No, it's nothing," you say, barely above a whisper. "You're right, I should go get some sleep. Did you want the guest room?"

"'m good here," he tells you. "you know i can sleep anywhere."

"Doesn't mean you should," you retort. "Frisk and I have to get up in the morning to get some of their lessons done, so don't get too mad if we wake you up."

"if i can sleep through mettaton visiting papyrus, i can sleep through your lessons."

You smile at him and stand. "goodnight, then."

"'night."

You head upstairs, focusing on not looking back at him. Once you've changed and gotten under the covers, you let yourself breathe. Your heart twists and you let out a short, almost silent laugh. It sounds strangled. You feel strangled.

You were just three seconds away from confessing, and you let the look on his face stop you.

Just a little bit pathetic.

You don't dream while you sleep.

You wake up feeling... normal. Rested, but indifferent. You look over at your phone. It's almost eleven, three hours later than when you had set your alarm for. You don't remember hitting snooze. You crawl out from under the covers and stretch yourself out. You throw on a hoodie to avoid having to get completely dressed and make your way downstairs. 

Frisk and Sans are already sitting at the kitchen table with worksheets spread out in front of them. You stand near them and give them a small smile. 

"Morning," you say, signing for Frisk as well. "Sorry I took so long."

"figured you needed a little more sleep," Sans tells you quietly. He doesn't look up at you.

Right.

*" _ Sans and I have it covered! _ " Frisk signs enthusiastically after dropping their pencil on the floor. 

You pick up one of the science worksheets and look it over. While it's basic information about ecosystems, you're a little surprised at how detailed some of Frisk's answers are.

"You didn't do this for them, did you, Sans?" you ask, dropping it back on the table and sitting across from them.

"i would never," he replies.

"You'd better not. They need to learn these things to make sure they're still with the class."

"you have to remember that they were ahead to begin with," he reminds you. "tori was teaching them before."

"That's true," you say. 

You spend a few minutes brewing coffee and signing small hints at Frisk when they get stuck on their reading comprehension worksheets. It doesn't take much to get them back on track. Sans stands when there's a knock on the door.

"i'll get it," he says, almost silently. He places his hand on your shoulder briefly as he passes.

You can't help but smile. Frisk gives you a thumbs up. 

"uh, s'for you," you hear him call after a moment. 

You stand and tell Frisk to stay there. You move to the door to see a frazzled, almost angry looking Sans. He sticks close to your side when you peek around the open door.

Oh.

Well.

You weren't expecting this.

"Hi, dad," you breathe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay okay okay  
> According to my stats page...  
> 150+ subscriptions  
> 100+ bookmarks   
> 500+ kudos  
> 7.2k+ hits  
> OKAY GUYS.  
> I'm crying a little bit, I didn't expect so many people to read my trash ;w; We've surpassed my only completed fic in everything except hits, and we're only like 500 away from that as it is.   
> Excuse me stop making me feel feelings, I'm supposed to make **YOU** feel feelings. I don't know what feelings are. I don't know how to handle myself.   
>  Come tell me what feelings are at my [tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)  
> (thank you thank you thank you for being patient through my inconsistency you guys are so great)  
> (I mean SHUT UP, IT'S NOT LIKE I LIKE YOU OR ANYTHING, B-BAKA.)  
> (yes i do)


	21. Biker Gang Calling Card

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a turkey sandwich so beautifully constructed, you can't bear to eat it.

Sans bristles at your side. Your father looks from your face to his, expression cold. He has more wrinkles at the corners of his eyes than you remember, but they aren't the crow's feet caused by laughter. You're not sure how long it's been since you've seen a smile on his face. He furrows his brow. More wrinkles. You look at Sans and gesture for him to back up. He tenses. You give him a pleading look. He stares at your father for one last long moment before grunting and turning away.

"i'll be with frisk," he mumbles as he shuffles further into the house.

"May I come in?" your father asks, his voice low and commanding. 

You suck in a breath. He had always told you that the first step to dealing with a lawyer is to stand your ground. "How about I come out on the porch?" 

He nods approvingly before he steps back, and you step out, shutting the door behind you. It's almost too hot for your hoodie, the air motionless and humid, promising storms. He studies you with dark, emotionless eyes before clearing his throat. 

"Your mother wanted me to invite you to lunch. In person," he tells you. He's straight and to the point, as he always has been, though his words seem clipped, using a tone that is normally reserved for the lawyer prosecuting his client. That's a little unlike him. 

"Is she here?" you ask.

He gestures to the car still running in the driveway. You mother is in the passenger seat. She waves, a huge grin plastered to her face. You wave back.

"Will you be coming or not?" 

You look back at him. "You already made reservations, didn't you?" 

"Yes."

"Then I don't really have a choice, do I?"

"Not particularly. Here's the address, our reservation is for noon. You may want to consider getting ready."

You look at the time on your phone. It's almost eleven-thirty as it is. You suppress the urge to give him shit for not giving you enough time and instead take the small card from his hand and smile at him.

"I'll see you around noon," you say. 

With that, he gives you a curt nod and walks back to the car, barely even looking over at you before pulling out of the driveway. You sigh and look at the card. It's one of his business cards with an address and a restaurant name scrawled on the back in black ink. The restaurant is near the center of downtown. You'll have to leave a little sooner than you would like. You walk back into the house, making sure to lock the door behind you, and go back to the table. Sans stands when he sees you.

"You don't need to be so... tense," you tell him. "My parents just wanted to take me to lunch, and mom insisted that they deliver an invitation in person."

"she shoulda been the one do it. he's not welcome here," Sans spits.

"Why do you think I didn't let him in the house?" you argue. "Look, whatever he wants, I'll deal with it while I'm out. Will you stay here with Frisk?"

"yeah, 'course i will." He relaxes a little and sits back down. "you gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine," you assure him. "He's still my father. How much do you think he would do to hurt me?"

"if he does anything at all, i'll deal with him."

"No, you won't," you say. "No dunking on my dad. No dunking on anyone."

"i don't have to listen to you," he says, but he seems placated. 

"And yet you still do." You move around to sign to Frisk that you'll be gone for a little while, and you pat Sans' shoulder as you move towards the stairs. 

You throw on something comfortable (along the lines of jeans and a university t-shirt) instead of trying to get yourself looking nice. You tame your hair and decide against makeup. 

They're your parents. They shouldn't care what you look like.

Sans watches you intently as you gather your belongings downstairs and throw them into your bag. It's a bit unsettling, knowing his eyes are trained on you, but you figure it's better than him pointedly avoiding looking at you out of embarrassment. You make sure to give him a reassuring smile when you catch each other's gazes. He doesn't seem to relax at all.

"You're going to spend the whole time worrying, aren't you?" you tease when he follows you to the door. 

"i don't like him," he says. "you know how he feels about monsters. you saw the way he looked at me."

"You're right, I did," you say. "I'll get everything taken care of that I can while we're out. If there's anything I can do to help with this whole cult business or whatever, it's getting through to my dad."

"dunno. he looks like he's got a pretty thick skull."

"You'd know." You reach out and tap his forehead with your knuckles, and that draws a small grin from him.

"yeah. i'm a real bonehead."

"I'll be back soon. It won't be more than a couple of hours."

Sans shoves his hands in his pockets and turns away without a word, but you think he's feeling a little better. Actually, you can almost feel his mood shift. You get in your car and start the not-so-long drive to your destination.

If there's anything you can do, it's get through to your dad, right? Sans may have been right, though - he's always been stuck in his ways, and you don't really believe yourself when you say that there may be a chance of him changing his mind about monsters after hearing what his only daughter has to say. No, he's far more stubborn than that. Besides, it seemed as though something was bothering him. He had been more distant than he normally would be, more reserved. Though he's always been a bit separated from your idea of a "dad", he's still capable of showing affection and generally being a good parent. His demeanor on your doorstep is suddenly giving you a worse feeling than it already had. Something must be wrong, and you're not sure you want to find out what that something is.

You're already thinking of ways to get out of this lunch trip when you walk up to the building's doors. You notice a small, Froggit-shaped figure in the corner of the window by the door white-painted wooden door. Weird. You walk in, briefly taking in the theme of light wood flooring and beige walls, and see your parents just barely starting to be led away by a server. You move quickly to catch up, explaining briefly to the hostess that you're the third member of their party as you pass. You scoot into the booth across from them, taking the server by surprise. He smiles and asks what you'd like to drink. You ask for water. The light over the table is rather low, blocking out the very top of your father’s head. 

"Oh, honey, I'm glad you're here," your mother says happily. "I was worried that your father was too harsh, and maybe you wouldn't come."

There was one other thing that your father taught you about dealing with lawyers, and that was to be as precise and to the point when speaking with them as they are with you. You take a breath and a second to plan your attack.

"There's other reasons why I wouldn't come," you say, keeping your voice level. "For example, my friend was very uncomfortable with me coming based on what we saw on the news."

"The friend that answered the door?" your father pushes.

You nod, thanking the waiter and taking a sip of water when he brings it. He promises to be back shortly to take your orders.

"I almost listened to him," you go on. "I hope you make this worth my while, dad. I have a child to homeschool."

He remains silent for a moment, and you start to wonder if talking to him the way that he talks to you was a bad idea. Instead of coming up with a retort, he almost - almost! - smiles and takes a drink of his coffee. Black. 

"I assure you, dear, this is a conversation well worth having," he tells you. 

"And what conversation is that?" you ask. Your mother looks on at him with a bewildered expression, as though she has no idea what's going on. Your father has ulterior motives that even she didn't know about, and as far as you know, their marriage is an open and honest one. You feel a red flag rear its ugly head.

He postpones his answer while the waiter listens to him order for each of you, as he normally would. You wait, imagining that your eyes are actually boring holes into the shoulders of his impeccably tailored suit. Once the waiter skirts away around another table, your father looks back down at you. 

"The conversation we need to be having is about you," he says. "I have not heard from you in a while. Please, tell me what's been going on in my daughter's life."

You let your gaze soften a little. You doubt that he only wants to know what's been going on in your life, but you'll tell him, and you won't leave out any of the nasty details about what's been happening with you and your friends.

You start easily enough, talking about how you managed to start student teaching at one of the better elementary schools, helping a deaf child. It's exactly what you had wanted to be doing. You continue with talking about how kind and accepting Toriel and Asgore had been when you first met them, and how they insisted on getting to know you better since you would be working with their child. You go into detail on how appreciative you are of that, even if it is a bit out of the norm for a student teacher to form such a close relationship with the family of the child they're assigned to help. You watch his face, hoping to see something like an emotion cross over it, but there's nothing. You continue.

You spend some time talking about Undyne and Alphys, not going into too many details of their personal life. You talk about their personalities and how great of friends they are. You move on to talk about Frisk, the adorably flirtatious third-grader that has deemed you as their sibling, then to Flowey, who you still don't quite understand. Your father seems to be intrigued at this point. Lunch arrives, but you don't even touch the turkey sandwich he had ordered for you.

The only thing he remembers you liking as a child is turkey sandwiches. 

You switch to talking about Mettaton, and your mother looks absolutely starstruck. You're a little disappointed that you can't really answer her questions, but you promise to do what you can to get to know him better so that you're able to tell her anything she wants to know. Your father tenses and seems a little perturbed at her response to your mentioning the robotic star, but still doesn't say anything. From there, you move on to Papyrus, making a smooth transition by mentioning how close the two seem to be. Your mother falls back into silence as you talk about how sweet and kind Papyrus is, and her expression breaks into that of terror when you mention the little scare you had regarding his car and a pile of dust. Her hand flies over her mouth and your father takes a sip of his54 coffee, as if trying to avoid your gaze.

"He is so lucky to have gotten out of there," your mom breathes between her fingers. "I can't imagine what it would have been like to have such a close friend taken from you so... violently."

"Indeed," is all your father says. 

"Lucky doesn't begin to cover it," you say. "With this cult running around the way it is, monsters aren't safe, and neither are the humans that are friends with them, apparently. Did I tell you that my apartment was broken into?"

Your father sets down his mug, eyes flicking back up to yours. There's the emotion you were looking for. His voice just barely breaks its near-monotone as he speaks, "No, you didn’t mention that."

"I came home one night and it was completely trashed. All of my valuables were gone. My laptop as well as some of my other electronics, all of Grandma's silver is gone..." You give your mom an apologetic glance. "I was trying to figure out a way to tell you that."

You examine both of their reactions. Your mother looks close to tears, and your father looks almost... guilty? He gives you a hard look, his version of concern.

"Anything else you remember?"

"My photos were still there, like the time that the school was broken into and my desk was trashed," you go on slowly, watching his brow knit together in thought. "There was a sticky note like at the school, too, except the one who I'm assuming leaves them was actually in my bedroom, crawling out through the window."

"What did they look like?"

You shake your head. "Don't know. They had the red hoodie, but they're the only one I've seen with a Froggit mask. We've been calling them Froggit Face."

He freezes when you mention the Froggit mask, but takes a moment before he inhales to speak. He clamps his mouth shut. Takes a drink of coffee. Inhales again. Stops. Shakes his head. 

"Toriel was the first person I thought to call, considering I would have had to tell her about it anyways," you go on, taking advantage of his thoughtful silence. He returns to watching you again. "Anything that has to do with cult activity, she needs to know. She has a kingdom's worth of monsters to look after. She came by and insisted that I take Neo and stay with her for a little while, get my locks changed. That took way too long, to say the least, and the school ended up firing me because I was staying in the same house as the student I was helping." 

You decide to leave out the bit about the principal being a racist asshole that figured you were sleeping with one of the monsters present that day. Your mother looks horrified enough, and your father seems to be struggling with something. His face is wrought with indecision, and he can't seem to find words to say what he wants to say. At least, you hope that's what's going on.

Your mom reaches across the table to take your hand in hers. "Sweetie, it must have been so hard. Why didn't you tell us any of this sooner?"

"I had it under control," you lie. "I can take care of myself, Mom, and I have Sans and Papyrus keeping an eye on me all the time. I'm perfectly safe."

"I don't think you are," your father finally says, forcing it out quickly as if he had been holding on to that statement for a while. 

"What?" The response comes from both you and your mother. She seems just as startled as you are.

"I had been planning to bring it up anyhow, but what happened to you... It's more urgent than I initially thought," he goes on. "It's not safe for you to be living with those monsters. I want you to move back home."

Again, your mother looks just as surprised as you feel. You give him a bewildered look and shake your head.

"No. Just... no, I'm not moving back home," you say.

"It would be so much safer," he insists. "Besides, don't you feel like a burden on the queen of monsters? You would be at home with us. We're your parents. It's our duty to look after you, and, as you said, she has a kingdom's worth of monsters to look after."

That... strikes home. They've been nice to you - far too nice for it to be believable. Your stay keeps automatically extending itself, and while Toriel keeps telling you that she doesn't mind, that she prefers it this way, with you under the same roof as Frisk, you can't bring yourself to completely believe her. She doesn't strike you as someone to tell you to leave because you're a burden. She's too... maternal. Besides, if Frisk loves you as much as Toriel keeps telling you that they do, then she wouldn't make you leave, just because Frisk might be upset about it. 

Maybe you are a burden to her, even if she tells you otherwise. 

"Why aren't you eating?" your father asks after another stretch of silence. You're staring at the sandwich, but you feel sick.

"Not hungry anymore," you say, and it's true. "I'm still not moving home. I'm still responsible for Frisk's education, and it's easier to be under the same roof." That's also true.

"We could easily win custody of the child--"

"We are  _ not _ fighting for custody over Frisk!" you cut in. "Look, I'm a grown-ass adult. I don't need your permission to live where I want. I'm staying with Toriel."

He raises an eyebrow. "Is it because of that short skeleton?"

You sputter. "What? What does Sans have to do with  _ any _ of this?"

"He seemed awfully possessive."

Again. Again with people assuming that there's something between you and the "royal babysitter". As almost pleasant as the idea sounds, you’re a bit fed up with people making assumptions.

"He's my friend and he has nothing to do with it," you argue. "He was tense because you were at our door, dad. After what you said about monsters on the news, you're not exactly the first person they want to welcome on that doorstep."

Your mother becomes rigid and asks the waiter for the check.

"My public statements have nothing to do with this," he says in a low tone.

"Your public statements have  _ everything _ to do with this. I live with monsters, dad. My closest friends are monsters. You being openly against them isn't going to make you welcome in our home."

"Watch your volume," he murmurs. "You saw the figurine in the window, didn't you?"

You quell your rage for a moment. "Yeah?"

"This is a monster-free establishment, and by extension, monster sympathisers aren't welcome either. Watch your tongue." 

Of course it's a monster-free zone. That figure must act like a biker gang's calling card, a token of promised protection. You squint at your father. You wonder if Toriel knows about those. You make a mental note to tell her about it when she returns from the conference.

"I'm not living anywhere with you. It's probably more dangerous than being with Toriel," you finish, packing your completely untouched plate into one of the boxes the waiter brings with the check. You stand as your father pulls out his card, slinging your bag over your shoulder and making sure that the food is in your hand. Maybe Frisk will eat it. "Take care of yourselves."

With that, you scoot out of your seat and leave the restaurant, tossing your bag and the carry-out box into your passenger seat as you drop into your car. You know that he's trying to look out for you in his weird, distant, fatherly kind of way, but things aren't going to work the way he seems to want them to. While you appreciate it, you have to think of the bigger picture, which mainly consists of Frisk. If nothing else, you need to shrug off his words about being a burden to Toriel and focus on being there to help Frisk with their school work. 

You turn up your radio on the way home and don't bother turning it down when you pull into the driveway. You take your bag and the food and walk into the house, which is eerily quiet aside from the sound of a dull pencil scratching against paper. Frisk and Sans are still at the kitchen table where you left them, Sans asleep with his head resting on his arms, which are crossed on the tabletop. Frisk doesn't notice you until you drop the box of food in front of them.

" _ You like turkey sandwiches? _ " you sign.

They nod happily and open the box, plucking out half of the sandwich and examining it. You push the pencil sharpener towards them as well before lightly shaking Sans. His eye sockets barely open enough for you to see dim, white pinpricks flick up to look at you. 

"that didn't take long," he says, sleep heavy in his voice. You wonder how that works, considering his voice is a magical projection. "how'd it go?"

"Worse than expected. I have a few things to bring up with Toriel now," you say honestly.

Sans raises a brow bone. "maybe i'll take you out tonight," he says. "we can get pap to watch the kid." 

You snort and smile at him. He’s being awfully nice to you. "That sounds kind of nice," you admit. 

"grillby's?"

"Grillby's."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -unholy screeching-  
> Screech with me at my [tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)


	22. Friendship Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good drinks, good friends, good atmosphere...  
> What could possibly go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wishing Lusewing a happy birthday. <3   
> You're a cool pal :3c

Your afternoon is spent lounging with Frisk, with them leaning up against your form as they sprawl out on the couch. They're finally tuckered out from finishing their lessons and playing video games alongside you, and you have to admit that you're relieved. It's almost as if there's no end to their energy sometimes. You're a little thankful for Sans casually mentioning that turkey can make you sleepy (although that's definitely not how it works); as soon as he said something about it, Frisk slowed in their act of shoving their sandwich in their mouth to act as if they were falling asleep. The real thing followed not too long afterwards, and you’ve been dozing a bit as well.

You fiddle with their hair a little bit, leaning your chin in your palm as you cuddle up to the arm of the couch, watching the episodes of Chopped that you've missed since moving into Toriel's. While you lead a mostly tame life, it's still nice to take advantage of the downtime you rarely come across between running Frisk's lessons and trying to get your own business taken care of. You have student teaching to worry about, an apartment to move back into hopefully sooner rather than later, and a cult that doesn't seem to like you or your friends all that much to deal with as well. A quiet break filled with competitive cooking shows is a kind of break you can appreciate. Sans had disappeared after Frisk fell asleep a few hours ago, so you don't have to keep him entertained, either. It's the first real quiet you've experienced in a short while. 

Of course, it doesn't last long. It never does. Frisk stirs as the latest episode comes to an end. They use your thigh as a means to prop themself up on their elbow and look back at you with a sleep-hazed smile, but their attention is quickly drawn to the front door as it swings open. You wince, hoping that the hinges aren't in danger. In steps the only two people that you know are perfectly okay with nearly breaking Toriel's front door. One gives you a wide, toothy grin as she steps in further, and the other carefully closes the door before he does the same. 

"HELLO, HUMAN. WHERE IS MY BROTHER?" Papyrus asks, voice echoing off of the now silent walls. Again, you wince.

"He ran off somewhere a couple of hours ago," you say. "He's probably taking a nap or something."

"UNACCEPTABLE," he growls, looking towards the stairs. "I WILL SEARCH FOR HIM. YOU REMAIN HERE."

"Will do," you murmur, watching him bound up the stairs. You wonder if you could put him to sleep with stories of turkeys and their sleep-inducing meat like Sans had with Frisk. You turn your attention to Undyne as Frisk wriggles out of your loose grasp. 

"Pap said he was babysitting the kid while Sans takes you out," she says, her tone both teasing and oddly menacing. "Finally putting the moves on him, huh? Where'd you get the guts?"

She plops onto the couch next to you, almost making you bounce up completely off of the cushion. You try your best to cut a glare into her, but you can't help but smile at the look on her face. She seems positively pleased, though if it’s with you or something else, you're not entirely sure. 

"I didn't," you tell her. She nudges your side with her elbow. It hurts a little. "No, seriously, I didn't do anything. I came back from lunch with my parents and he said he wanted to take me out, no big deal."

"Going to lunch with your parents is no big deal, or going out at night with your skele-crush is no big deal?" She nudges you a little harder. It hurts a little more. You wouldn’t be surprised if you find a bruise in the morning.

"Both," you say. "I really wish you wouldn't refer to him as that."

"refer to who as what?"

You jump, looking back behind the couch, and you're sure your face is burning bright when your eyes fall on Sans. He looks... amused. You feel yourself sinking farther into shame as you sink lower into the couch.

"Oh, nothing, Sansy," Undyne sings, gathering a not-so-happy Frisk in her arms and pulling them onto her lap. "We were just talking about her plans for tonight, and they seem to include you."

"INDEED THEY DO," Papyrus agrees. "I HOPE YOU ARE NOT TAKING HER ON A PITY DATE LIKE YOU DID WITH THE OTHER HUMAN."

That stings.

"friendship date," Sans corrects, giving you a slow wink. "we're going on a friendship date, aren't we, pal?"

"I guess," you mumble, breaking eye contact. 

"NYEH! I SUPPOSE THE TWO OF YOU WOULD LIKE TO GET GOING," Papyrus says, almost knocking his brother over in his excited haste. "YOU HAVE A LONG NIGHT OF FRIENDSHIP-DATE THINGS TO DO. RUN ALONG, SANS. GO OUTSIDE AND WAIT FOR HER."

"whatever you say, bro," Sans replies, grinning up at his brother as he's practically pushed towards the door. Papyrus slams it shut behind him before returning to you and pulling you up onto your feet.

"FRIENDSHIP DATES CAN OFTEN LEAD TO BECOMING DATE FRIENDS," he tells you happily. "DO NOT FORGET THAT YOU ALREADY HAVE MY BLESSING."

"Papyrus, I really don't think that--"

"ERGH, would you stop doubting yourself?!" Undyne growls in your ear, making you jump. You didn't notice her getting so close, let alone getting up off of the couch. "Sans obviously likes you a little bit if he's the one that asked if you wanted to go out."

You narrow your eyes at her. She's got a little bit of a point. Her grin only grows as she watches the realization fall over your face. Besides, he had told you a while ago, on the night that he went on a pity date with the "other human", that if he went out with you, it wouldn't be out of pity. You're friends. It's a friendship date. 

It's a date.

Self-consciousness washes over you as you fret over your outfit, the same casual ensemble you wore to lunch with your parents. It seems... not enough? The other girl he took out had dressed up, but then again, they went to a museum first, not just to Grillby's (and from what Nolan had told you, she dresses up every night, even if she  _ is _ just going to Grillby’s). That's right, you're just going to Grillby's. A couple of friends grabbing drinks. No big deal, just as you told Undyne. 

No big deal.

"You look fine," your fish friend tells you, as if she's able to read your mind. "He didn't dress up any, why should you?"

"IF SANS IS NOT DRESSING UP, THAT MEANS HE IS COMFORTABLE WITH YOU," Papyrus agrees. "YOU SHOULD APPEAR TO BE COMFORTABLE WITH HIM AS WELL. THAT IS ONE OF THE BEST PIECES OF ADVICE TO FOLLOW FROM THE DATING HANDBOOKS. PERHAPS IF HE SEES THAT YOU ARE ALSO COMFORTABLE, IT WILL PROMPT HIM TO OPEN UP TO YOU A LITTLE BIT."

Aside from the hilarity of the idea of Papyrus studying a dating handbook or ten, he's got a point. Sans is comfortable, so you have no reason not to be, and if it could possibly serve as a means to get to know him a bit better, then you’ll be as comfortable as he is. You take a breath and pick up your bag, shouldering it before giving them a weak smile. 

"You'll be fine," Undyne urges. 

"I AM SURE THAT YOU MEET ALL OF HIS STANDARDS," Papyrus tells you.

*" _ Woo him! _ " Frisk signs happily, bouncing up on the couch. 

Thanking them for their support and ruffling Frisk’s hair for good measure, you turn and head to the door, slipping your feet into some sneakers on the way. You feel determined to make this a good night, a good experience for both you and Sans. 

He's waiting dutifully by the porch, just down the steps. He turns and grins at you when you shut the door behind you. 

"thought you were gonna bail," he says. 

"Would I do such a thing?" you ask, giving him a mocking smile. "We should get going."

"yeah." He wraps an arm carefully around your waist and pulls you into his side. You close your eyes as you feel him pool magic around you, and once they open, you're in front of Grillby's. Sans releases you and steps away. 

You wait a second for the mild disorientation to subside before you follow him inside. He leads you up to the bar, taking his normal seat and gesturing for you to sit next to him. You scan the bar, looking for... nothing, really, but you spot Nolan in the far corner of the bar, talking to someone. He doesn't see you, and you're pretty glad that he doesn't. You slip into the seat next to Sans and smile up at Grillby when he walks by and places a glass of water in front of you. Sans receives a bottle of ketchup and a crackling reminder to pay his tab.

"I don't understand how you can just... drink it," you say in a mix of awe and disgust, watching him part his teeth to squirt the tomato-based condiment into his mouth. He just grins.

"don't like ketchup?"

"Not enough to drink it."

"it's not so bad if you  _ mustard  _ up the courage to try."

You snort. Grillby glares at him; he must have heard that one a million times before. Sans just shrugs and chuckles.

"tell me about what happened today," he says quietly. His expression still reads like he's relaxed and messing around, but his tone is quite the opposite. You take a drink of your water and look over at him. 

"Is that why you wanted to come out?"

"pap says it's not good to just... sit on things." He looks down at the bottle of ketchup. "says it's good to talk to a friend when things aren't great."

"You're concerned." You smile at him, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little surprised. "You're actually concerned about how things went with my dad."

He gives you an odd look. "yeah, kinda."

You let your gaze linger on him for another solid minute before you look away and sigh through your nose. "It was... tense. I guess for starters, did you know that there's anti-monster establishments? They have these Froggit figures in the windows. I guess they symbolize the cult's promise to protect that area from monsters and monster sympathizers."

"what do you mean by sympathizers?"

"People like me. People that are friends with monsters." He raises a brow bone at you. "I know. Anyways, that's something I need to bring up with Toriel. I'm not sure that monsters know about that. If it became public knowledge, we could keep a lot of people from getting hurt."

"i never heard of that," he says. "would be a good idea to tell her."

"Yeah."

Grillby lingers nearby, looking in your direction. When you meet his gaze (at least, when you make eye contact with his glasses), he inclines his head in a small nod before whisking away into the back of the bar. Sans taps the bartop with his fingers.

"looks like he's gonna make sure the word spreads, at least around here," he mutters. "anyways, what'd your dad do to piss you off?"

"Told me to move back home," you say. "When I told him I wouldn't because of Frisk, he tried to bring up taking Toriel to court and trying to get custody of them, which is ridiculous." You take another drink of water. "He tried to tell me that it was because of you, because he thinks there must be something betw--"

"don't say it." He holds a bony hand up to silence you, decidedly avoiding eye contact. You can see the faintest blue tinge on his face. 

"Right. Sorry." 

"is that all?"

"Yeah. Makes it sound like it's not that big of an issue when I say it like that," you murmur. 

"it's still a big deal," he assures you. "you think he's connected to the cult somehow?"

"I sure as hell hope not," you say. "He can be against monsters all he wants, but I'm not sure that I can deal with him actually, you know,  _ killing _ them."

He winces. "yeah. i don't want to think about that."

"Sorry." You shake your head and stare into your glass, trying to focus, to gather your thoughts. 

"frisk told me you had been asking about the underground a while back," he says before you can dwell any further. He almost sounds hesitant.

"Yeah?"

"wanna hear more?"

You're... amazed. You know from both experience and word of mouth that Sans isn't very open, especially about the Underground. He seems to hate the idea of it, the idea of even thinking or talking about it even more. He looks over at you, an odd expression on his face. Awe must be written across yours.

"limited time offer, pal," he says.

"Yes! Yeah, tell me more about it," you say hastily. You sound excited, and he seems to revel in that a little. Hearing about the Underground from an actual monster that lived down there ought to be a treat, especially since it’s Sans.

"alright, pal. get comfy." 

The barstools at Grillby's aren't exactly uncomfortable, but they're still barstools. You give him a stiff look. 

"ok, ok, where to start...?" He looks around. "grillbz had an establishment down there, too, ya know. almost identical to this one. he and i became close pals when i moved to snowdin with paps and started going there."

Grillby returns in time to hear Sans' words and gives him what you assume is the flaring-up equivalent to a warm smile before heading back to work. You brush a few stray embers away from your glass. 

"paps was still pretty little when we moved there, but he was too big to stay with us while we worked." Sans looks a little far away for a second, but he snaps back at the sound of your voice.

"What do you mean by 'us'?"

"uh, me and the old royal scientist," he says dismissively, almost too quickly. "alphys was his student, i was there as an assistant. anyways, he was still small enough to be called a babybones. wouldn't remember life at the lab if you asked him."

He takes a rather long pull of ketchup before continuing. "life in snowdin gets pretty routine after a while. there's only so many snow puns a guy can come up with, ya know. only so many people who want to listen to 'em. wasn't until undyne came along that things got interesting."

You look at him expectantly. You weren’t exactly expecting a recount of his entire life down there, but you’ll take it. Maybe this is the “opening up” Papyrus had been talking about.

"she's captain of the royal guard, you know. clawed her way to the top is how i hear it. paps really liked her, really liked what she stood for and how courageous she is. he decided he was going to become a royal guardsman, sat outside her door all night after she slammed it in his face. she agreed to train him, but he never would have made it on. he never would have been able to kill a human."

Your expectant look twists into something slightly more horrified. 

"we needed seven human souls to break down the barrier between us and the surface," he explains. "not the greatest way to go about things, but it was the only way. seven human souls put it up, you need the same amount to take it back down again. simple math, as gruesome as it is. frisk woulda been the seventh." Another pull of ketchup. You take a drink from your own glass. "dunno what kind of trick they pulled, but they got us out without having to die. kid's amazing."

You can only nod in agreement. 

"anyways, things got interesting when undyne agreed to train my bro. a lot more lively. he was running around outside, building puzzles like nobody's ever seen before, preparing speeches to give to any human that he captured." Sans' tone is a mix of dreamy and proud, a positive reminiscing if you've ever witnessed one. "he was learning some healing magic along the way, enough to make sure he didn't look too battered up when he got home from sparring practice. was even able to heal a broken bone after a while."

"Can you do any healing magic?" you ask when he pauses.

"nah, not me. never had the capacity for it. most monsters can, though."

"How can you not have the capacity to look after yourself?"

"i don't have much hope, pal," he tells you quietly. "if all your hope's gone, you die, right? we measure hope in points. i've got one. paps has tons. most living things got at least twenty."

"Why is yours so low..?"

His sockets darken completely, and you feel... dirty. Like there's something crawling on your back. You shudder, willing the feeling to go away, for Sans to return to his normal self. This isn’t the kind of “open” you were expecting.

"if someone were to try to kill me, i don't think i'd have it in me to hold on long enough to be saved," he says in a near-whisper, barely audible to you over the loud ambience of the bar. 

"Sans, I--."

"anyways, paps learned healing, and eventually, undyne switched him to cooking," he goes on, doing a complete turn-around and acting as if the previous bit of the conversation never happened. "she told me that she didn't think he was cut out to be a guard, but maybe he could learn to cook and do something with that instead." He shakes his head fondly while yours is still spinning from the mood switch. "pap didn't know the difference. i don't think he ever found out that she wasn't planning on recruiting him. she was right not to, though. he couldn't catch frisk."

You recall Undyne telling you how Frisk befriended just about every monster in the Underground, and you don't doubt that Papyrus would have had a hard time catching Frisk. The kid is definitely slippery, if not a little manipulative. They know how to use their cute factor to get what they want fairly easily. 

"So, Papyrus and Undyne kept things lively after you moved to Snowdin," you say. You’re hoping to push the conversation in a bit of a different direction, to gain a little insight on  _ him _ instead of just life with his brother. "What exactly were  _ you _ doing during all of that?"

"manning my sentry post, sellin' hot dogs. livin' large," he says with a shrug. "keepin' a lookout for humans so pap could catch 'em. s'all i really did."

Your attempt has been completely shut down.

"Somehow, I'm not surprised," you say, watching Grillby tend to a small group of humans at the other side of the bar. They seem very keen on touching his hands to see if they get burned. The fire elemental keeps murmuring something about liabilities and lawsuits. You figure that means that he can, indeed, burn someone.

"grillbz was smart when the barrier came down," Sans goes on, following your gaze. "opened up shop as soon as he came up, while the humans were still interested in monsters and excited about our gold. this place has gotta be twice the size of his place underground. never seen him so happy."

"I'm guessing he'd been dreaming of opening a bigger place?"

"yup. i think he's happy dealin' with humans, too." He nods in Grillby's direction in time for you to watch him flare up at the group and send a few embers their way, a feat which delights them. 

"Looks that way," you agree. You look at the clock behind the bar. Barely an hour has passed, your glass is empty, and Sans seems to have said everything he wants to say. You look to the window by the front door. It's getting dark out. You'll have to put Frisk to bed soon, and from what you understand, Papyrus gets cranky without a bedtime story. Besides, something feels a little… off. Like you’re being watched.

"you thinkin' of bailin' on me?" Sans teases. 

"I didn't realize how late it is," you say quietly. "I feel bad dumping Frisk on Undyne and Papyrus like that."

"they can handle the kid for a while," he says. "stay and talk to me."

You take a sharp inhale, then nod. You might as well enjoy some time out, and if you head home without making some kind of move on Sans, you'll never hear the end of it from Undyne. Odds are, Nolan has seen you and knows about your date by now, what with his tendency to approach the bar to ask for drinks instead of waiting for Grillby to make his rounds, so he would most likely say something as well. It doesn't take too long for you to shake the awful feeling that you’re being watched and take a deep breath...

...to ask Grillby for an actual drink.

He gives you the blackberry drink that you had the first time you visited this bar, and while you promise to limit yourself to only one, Sans still gives you a slightly concerned look. You assure him it won't end up like last time before trying to mask the surprise of feeling the magical burn in your throat. His concern shifts to amusement, and he starts to lay on the jokes and teasing pretty thick.

You will the magical properties of the drink to give you courage sooner rather than later so that you can put an end to his shenanigans and tell him.

You know, that you like him.

Yeah, that.

Grillby drops another bottle of ketchup in front of Sans when it looks like he's reached the bottom of the one he already has, and the skeleton looks fairly pleased. He looks relaxed, like he's genuinely in a good mood. 

You don't want to accidentally catch him while he's deep in thought like you did last time. You scared him, and that's not something you want to relive. 

"Hey, Sans," you start slowly, peeking over at him from the corner of your eye. "I need to tell you something."

"what's up, pal?"

This is it. You're going to tell him and since you're in a public place, he shouldn't outwardly react too badly. You hope he doesn't react badly at all. You don't really expect anything from him, though. You don't expect him to return your feelings or even accept them. As long as he knows, you figure that everything should be--

"hey, you ok?" You snap back into the here and now, your eyes focusing on his hand waving in front of your face. He's back to being concerned. "the magic drink might'a been a bad idea, bud."

"No, it's fine. I'm fine. I just..." You prop your elbows on the bartop to bury your face in your hands. "Sans, I just, um, like you. A lot. A-and I--"

"magic drink was definitely a bad idea," he says, as if completely ignoring your statement. "you don't mean that. it's the drink talking."

"Wait, Sans, I'm serious."

You've gotten over your burning cheeks and the sight of his doing the same. The liquid courage is finally kicking in. You stare at each other for a moment before he lets out a short, forced laugh.

"it's the drink talking," he repeats, almost disbelievingly. 

"Sans--"

"the drink." His voice is a little harsher, sharper. He gives you an expressionless look, his sockets dimming to an almost black, and he stands quickly. "i'm gonna go get some air, then we're gonna leave."

The courage melts and you're filled with a little bit of panic. He heads back towards the bar's kitchen before you can stop him. You stare at your empty glass and just... stare at it. If that wasn't rejection, you're not sure what is. You could try to write it off as mere surprise on his end, but you don't think that surprise would make him do that. Normally, surprise results in one party staring at the other, maybe their mouth slightly agape, but you definitely don't associate it with completely running away.

Maybe he's shy?

You shake your head at your thoughts. You can't really chalk it up to that, either. He may be closed off and a bit withdrawn, but you wouldn't call him shy. Overly embarrassed given the circumstance, maybe, but never shy. If anything, he's a skeleton of the people, able to converse with and befriend just about anyone. You've never met anyone (aside from your monster-hating father) that doesn't like Sans. Even if Sans found someone he didn't like, he'd still grin and tell jokes and make it look like he was comfortable.

What makes you the exception?

Your chest tightens. You're the exception. You made him uncomfortable and he left. You finally told him and he didn't like what he was hearing. You don't think he really believed you, either. That, or he was trying to convince himself that you didn't mean it, not in the way that you do. It could have been the drink talking. 

But it wasn't. The drink just enabled you to speak. Otherwise, you would have tripped over your words and just said "nevermind" again, like you did the last time. You would have given up and pretended like it was nothing.

You would have had to call yourself a coward again.

You almost have enough bitterness at his reaction to call  _ him _ a coward for running away as he did, but you stop yourself. You really haven't known him for long, a couple of months at most. His not believing you is completely rational. But then again, the two of you have been through a lot, along with your friends. Stress can make things progress faster, can't it?

Or does it just make things seem like something that they're not? 

That's right. This could just be stress-induced infatuation, couldn't it? The cult constantly coming after your friends, stepping on you in the process, is definitely stressful. Feeling a strong need to help and try to protect your friends is definitely stressful. Sans threatening to kill you the first time you met was  _ definitely _ stressful. Your father, the humans at the park that tried to gang up on Papyrus, the Papyrus incident in the parking structure, the break-in... Almost every ridiculously stressful situation you've found yourself in over the course of the past couple of months have had Sans present in the solution.

Not that everything is solved, but...

He's been there. He's been supporting you and protecting you and generally making sure everything is okay to the best of his ability. He's been doing more than his fair share of work during all of this, and he shows no signs of slowing until a real solution is reached. There's definitely room for being thankful to morph itself into faux infatuation. He's been amazingly diligent. 

He's been there.

To top it off, you're perfectly aware that he's got his own problems to deal with. Papyrus has mentioned to you on multiple occasions that Sans sometimes has long nights and doesn't come home until early in the morning, stumbling in either drunk or exhausted. The younger brother takes it upon himself to care for him at these times (though he tries to care for him  _ all _ the time), and Sans will try to get him not to. It's part of his job, he insists. And while neither you nor Papyrus know what he does all day at his billion and one jobs, and what exactly might be keeping his attention into the hours of earliest sunlight, but you do know that it isn't good for him to be doing that and then still try to take care of everything that's going on with you.

You make a mental note to talk to Asgore about not needing the "royal babysitter" anymore. Sans needs his rest more than you need to be watched. Besides, Undyne or Papyrus would be more than happy to keep an eye on you and Frisk.

You take a breath and check the time on your phone. Sans has been gone for upwards of fifteen minutes, which is, by far, longer than you had expected him to be. You shoulder your bag and stand, looking to Grillby. He tilts his head at you.

"Mind if I go out back and check on him?" you ask. You're not entirely comfortable going through the back room without Sans, especially without an invitation. You don't have the same history with Grillby as Sans does.

Grillby nods and gestures to the door behind the bar, signalling his approval. You thank him and head back there, ignoring the stares from the group of humans he had been entertaining earlier. You really need to be checking on Sans instead of worrying what other people are thinking. 

You cross through the rather simple kitchen, ignoring the smell of hot oil and french fries, and rest your fingers on the doorknob. It takes you a moment to pluck up the courage to fully grasp it and twist it to push the door open. It’s heavy and made of metal, so you wind up having to put a little more force behind it than you had expected. 

The air is cold for a near-summer night, and you can’t help but shiver a little when you look around. It’s completely black in the back alley, or at least it would be without the singular light hanging next to the door which your head is poking out from. You don’t see Sans, but you don’t think he would have left without you.

“Sans? Where’d you go?” you call tentatively. There’s no response, but you hear heavy, strained breathing.

Then, footsteps. They almost sound like a shuffle. It could be Sans trying to scare you again.

You see, just outside of the ring of visibility cast by the small light, movement. You slip outside and try to get a closer look. The figure stills, but they seem a little too tall to be your skeletal friend. Besides, Sans isn’t wearing sneakers or a red--

Shit.

The empty eyes of a Froggit-shaped mask are revealed when dusty sneakers step into the light. He’s dragging something heavy behind him, something you can’t quite make out through his form. He tosses it with a bit of effort in front of him, leaving it breathing heavily and fading into blurry edges in front of you, a red gash across its chest. He offers you a two fingered salute just as you realize what it is he left in front of you. 

You weren’t aware that skeletons could bleed. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops.  
> Express your anger towards me for doing this shit **again** at my [tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)


	23. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sans, now is _not_ an appropriate time to make jokes about my appearance.”

He had told you that if someone struck him with the intention to kill, he wasn’t sure if he could hold on long enough to be saved. He was there, he was breathing, Froggit Face was gone. There was no way you were going to go after him alone, let alone leave Sans here. 

You have to get someone. You have to help him. You have to find a monster that can heal - he had told you that most monsters can heal, right? - and get him back to normal.

You can get him back to normal, right? 

He manages to sit himself up, facing you, one hand clutching at his wound and the other shakily supporting his weight. He stares at you, the lights in his eye sockets vibrating, fading, like the rest of his form. 

“don’t just… stand there,” he pants. 

Right. Help. You stare at him a short moment longer before opening the door and shouting for Grillby.

Like hell you’re going to leave Sans out here alone. You don’t know that Froggit Face wouldn’t come back and finish… this.

Fuck.

You try your hardest to hold yourself together, not to vomit, not to cry, while Grillby comes into the kitchen at the sound of your voice. He instantly picks up on your panic; his stature changes and he’s moving you aside so that he can get outside. A slight brush of his hand against your arm is enough to leave a lingering pain, but you’re not worried about it. Not now. Not while Sans, the monster that told you he wouldn’t be able to be saved, is somehow holding on. Your own pain can be ignored. 

“Papyrus,” Grillby says, looking at you as he gingerly lifts Sans into his arms. 

That’s all he has to say for you to pull your phone from your bag with shaky hands and dial the number, pressing the phone to your ear and sucking in a deep breath. His greetings are always rather lengthy, detailing everything he’s doing at that moment, and you know you’re going to have to cut him short. 

It rings twice. “ _ AH, HELLO HUMAN! HOW IS THE-- _ ”

“Paps,” you say urgently, cutting him off. “We need you here, now. Sans was hit.”

There’s silence on the other side of the line. 

“ _ He’s holding on..? I’ll be there as soon as I can. _ ”

The tameness of his tone is as unsettling as the circumstance, but he hangs up before you can say anything else. You follow Grillby into the back of the bar. He clears the cleanest counter with a swipe of his arm, making you wince at the sound of shattering glass, and sets Sans down on it gently. He whisks away into the front of the bar. You can hear him raise his voice to tell everyone to leave. You walk up to Sans where he sits. It wasn’t just the dark playing tricks on your eyes - he’s _actually_ blurry, as if he’s about to burst into a pile of dust. Seeing him like this, seeing him barely there, unable to focus, his expression strained and his eye sockets a deeper black than you’ve ever seen, hurts. You can’t help but feel responsible. If you hadn’t decided that it was a good time to tell him how you feel, he wouldn’t have gotten uncomfortable. He wouldn’t have needed air. He wouldn’t have gotten up and left. Even if that bit was unavoidable, you made no move to stop him, to take it back and tell him it was a joke. The self-loathing you would have felt for that would be so much better than the self-loathing you’re feeling now. Hating yourself for not telling him how you feel would be a million times better than hating yourself for almost getting your friend killed. You’d rather he be alive and unaware of your feelings than aware of them and no more than a pile of dust. 

“hey, kid.” 

You almost don’t hear him through your thoughts. You look at him, and you can barely make out the edges of his form anymore. His clothes are the only thing that makes him still seem like he’s really there. You can see a grin plastered on his face, though; leave it to Sans to keep smiling when something like this is happening. He holds out a hand - a very shaky, blurry hand. You’re afraid that if you touch it, that’ll finish it. He’ll dissipate. 

He keeps it out. You gently place yours on top of his, barely touching him at first. He twists the positions of both yours and his until he’s able to gently squeeze your fingers between his own. He feels like a physical manifestation of television static. You choke on your inhale a little and swallow.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

You’re crying.

“i’m still here,” he says in a near-whisper. “i’ll be fine.”

You want to punch him for saying that. He’s definitely not fine. He’s got a fraction of his singular point of hope, you’re assuming, and if he lets go of it for even a second, he’s gone. 

You’re starting to realize just how much you rely on him. 

“what you said earlier? tell me that again later,” he says. He’s not stuttering, he’s not pausing to cough or anything anymore. 

He almost looks like he’s putting himself back together, like he’s gaining hope.

If only it worked like that.

You squeeze back, just a little, scared of making a false move. His grin relaxes into something softer. After a few minutes of standing, the silence only broken by the sound of your quiet sobs, the bell at the front door chimes. The door to the kitchen opens, and Papyrus is followed in by Grillby. He takes in a shaky breath and stands in front of his brother. You try to move out of the way, to give them space, but Sans holds fast to your fingers, keeping you trapped. 

“Brother,” Papyrus says slowly, his voice strained with pain. “You must be more careful.”

“heh, i know,” Sans says in response, giving him a slow wink. Papyrus moves to lift his brother’s shirt. You avert your eyes, then realize that’s probably a bit silly. He’s a skeleton, after all.

The bones beneath his shirt are cracked and oozing what looks to you like blood. While they’re fuzzy, you can still see that they’re thicker and much sturdier-looking than those of a human. You assume it has something to do with the magical aspect of his being. 

Papyrus traces one of the cracks with the very tip of his finger before sighing and pressing his palm lightly to the entire area. Sans winces, but his form seems to come back together a bit as a soft orange glow emanates from his younger brother’s hand. You hear the bones shifting and clicking as they come back into place and the cracks heal. When Papyrus pulls his hand away, all that’s left of the slight carnage is the bright red blood still staining his otherwise pristine bones. 

“Human, could you do me a favor and clean him up?” Papyrus asks, taking a towel and running it under the warm tap before handing it to you. “I cannot bring his hope back to its full amount. We must call Toriel and wait for her.”

Toriel’s at that governmental conference, which should have ended by now, but she and Asgore had plans to stay there until tomorrow morning. You doubt that she can get to you in a timely manner, but you have to hold onto hope.

If Sans can, then you can, too.

You take the cloth from him and move around from Sans’ side to his front. He keeps hold of your dominant hand, still refusing to let go. He gives you a pained look when you try to pull it away, so you shake your head and focus on steadying your breathing so that you can mop up the mess that is his ribcage. At least he seems to be mostly solid.

You gently run the cloth over his uppermost ribs, working from the outside in. It’s almost impossible to ignore his involuntary shudder at first contact, his slightly tighter grip on your fingers. You feel heat rise to your cheeks, and you try to shove your thoughts away. This must be awfully personal, you figure - maybe it’s just a human thing, but it’s not entirely an everyday thing to feel up someone’s ribcage, even for medical reasons. You try to focus on the way the blood smears and sticks to his ribs under your soft strokes instead of the way he squirms under them.

He’s dying. Don’t be a pervert. 

Either skeleton blood is different from that of humans, or this isn’t blood at all - it’s  _ thick _ . It’s almost as if you’re picking up sludge with the towel instead of simply wiping it off. It takes far more time and quite a few rinses of the towel (which Papyrus ends up having to do for you, considering Sans’ reluctance to release you), but you get him clean. Without the deep maroon stains, you can see the remaining traces of these most recent cracks and those of the past - scars, if you can really call them that. You wonder, for a moment, what they would feel like if you were to run your fingers over them.

“like what you see?” he teases, voice low. You don’t think that Papyrus or Grillby heard him, not with the intensity of their hushed conversation on the other side of the room. 

“Just making sure I didn’t miss anything,” you say, and it’s not entirely a lie. If by some off chance you  _ did _ miss something and he wound up finding it, you’d never hear the end of it. 

Sans leans forward a little, looking as if he’s trying to inspect himself for that very reason. You push against his sternum gently, forcing him to lean back against the wall again. 

His bone is smooth and warm and your hand probably lingers a little longer than it should. His grin punctuated with a slow wink tells you that he’s caught that little fact. 

“Well, you’re clean now,” you say, raising your voice just enough that you catch Papyrus’ attention. He walks over and takes the stained cloth from your off hand before filling the sink basin with hot water and leaving it in there to soak. 

“when’s tori gonna get here?” Sans asks, looking up at his brother and dropping the teasing tone he had used on you. 

“SOON,” the younger brother responds, placing his hands on his hips as he returns. “WE MUST MOVE YOU INTO THE FRONT OF THE BAR. SHE WOULD DEEM THIS AS ANIMAL CRUELTY.” He gestures to where Sans is seated on the hard countertop, the floor beside him covered in broken glass and spices that Grillby obviously didn’t care much about. 

Sans snorts, obviously amused, and Papyrus seems to straighten a bit in his pride. Without warning, the taller pulls his brother up into his arms, struggling a little when Sans tries to keep hold of you. 

“I’ll be right behind you,” you assure him, and he slowly lets his hand slip from yours. 

He must really be scared if he’s relying on you so much.

Papyrus carries him through the door and disappears. You move to follow, but you’re stopped by Grillby, who tuts. He gestures to your arm. 

That’s right, he accidentally burned you when you called him out to get Sans. 

“I’m fine,” you tell him. “Nothing that won’t heal itself. I wouldn’t be concerned about it right now.”

You look back to the door. Grillby makes a soft humming sound, drawing your attention again.

“You comfort him,” he says quietly. When you raise a brow in confusion, he locks his hands together in the way that Sans had been keeping you captive moments before. Once the realization of, oh, Sans is keeping you close because it makes him feel better hits, the elemental breathes, “thank you.” 

You convince yourself that the heat residing in your cheeks is directly correlated to your proximity to the man that’s  _ literally made of fire _ and not embarrassment before nodding and pushing the door open. Papyrus has Sans situated in one of the chairs in the middle part of the bar, and he actually looks rather comfortable. Aside from his still-blurry edges, he almost looks like he’s back to normal. 

He’s still clinging to a fraction of a point of hope, though. 

You put yourself next to the skeleton in question (Papyrus had placed a chair next to him for this exact reason, and the small thumbs up he gives you does not go unnoticed), and he immediately laces his fingers with yours, exhaling in a way that makes him sound relieved. 

You wonder how holding onto you is helping him. Grillby said comfort, but you’re unsure if that’s the only reason. His form is a little less fuzzy, a little more real-looking. He was so rigid when you came into the room, yet so relaxed now.

So sad when you let go of his hand.

It’s the polar opposite of how he had acted after you had told him how you feel. He had bolted, completely disregarding you and avoiding your gaze. Now, it feels as if he can’t keep his sockets off of you, his hazy, dim eye lights flicking over your facial features as if he’s trying to memorize them.

Oh, god. He’s dying and he’s trying to memorize your face first.

You bite back fresh tears and try to make yourself smile at him. He winces.

“happy thoughts,” he urges. “hey, ‘m still here, aren’t i?” 

“Right, yeah, I’m sorry,” you murmur.

Papyrus and Grillby head towards the front door, looking out through the window and speaking in hushed tones again. You’ve hardly turned your head to watch them when Sans tightens his grip on your hand again, demanding your attention.

So damn needy.

But you can’t find it in you to tease him. 

Both Frisk and Sans had made it sound like dusting was immediate. He’s been seconds away from that fate for much longer than only a few seconds. You wonder how long he can keep that up.

You find yourself doing exactly what you had suspected him of doing earlier - you start mentally taking inventory of every little detail of his face, every imperfection. If something really happens to him, you’re not sure what you’d do. 

The bell on the door chimes again after what feels like hours, though you’re sure it wasn’t anywhere near that long. Time feels… odd. Deliberately stretched out, almost, but you still manage to tear your eyes away from the skeleton and your mind away from the peculiar concept that is time. Toriel rushes over, ignoring whatever quiet words Grillby tries to say to her, and drops into a kneel in front of Sans.

“Oh stars, Sans, are you alright?” she says frantically, patting his arms and face, as if trying to force his edges to behave, to stick back in place. They don’t. 

“i’m ok,” he says quietly. “gotta say, though, this has  _ goat _ to be the worst bit i’ve been in.”

Her head snaps up from where it was inspecting the sliced fabric of his shirt to give him a harsh glare. “Sans, now is  _ not _ an appropriate time to make jokes about my appearance,” she scolds. “You could have died! What would happen to Papyrus then? Sit still so that I can fix this.”

She holds a paw in front of his chest, her brow furrowed slightly with her focus, and you can feel magic in the air around her. After a moment, a small white shape materializes between his sternum and her palm, encased in an almost transparent blue haze. It’s… an upside-down heart, you realize. It’s cracked and chipped and overall very broken looking, but it’s somehow barely holding together by one tiny connection.

You pointedly look the other way. That must be his Soul, which you remember is a very,  _ very _ personal thing. 

“How could you have let yourself get so bad?” Toriel goes on. She’s using the tone she uses with Frisk when they’re actually in trouble. “And you, Grillby, Papyrus! Why did neither of you think to try feeding him? You know food can have healing properties!”

Papyrus looks away nervously, and Grillby shrugs, murmuring something about that method not working with Sans.

Toriel tuts, shaking her head. “Which, I suppose, is why you called me. You are lucky that I had decided to head home early, or there would have been no way for me to arrive here in such a timely fashion.” She sighs heavily, the magic in the air feeling much more soothing all of a sudden. 

It remains silent long enough that you think that Toriel is calm, finally, and focused on the task at hand, but the silence doesn’t last long. It never does. 

“Of all the stupid things that  _ you _ , one of the strongest monsters in the Underground, could do, you choose being taken off guard? In a back alley? At  _ night _ ?! It was foolish to be back there in the first place. It is impossible to see anyone that might be hiding,” she says with renewed vigor. “And I have been trusting you to watch over my child and our friend? See if you get to babysit anytime soon after this. If you cannot watch your own back, how will you watch theirs?”

“tori,” Sans tries, but she shushes him. 

“I am not angry with you for what has happened to you,” she goes on, a bit softer. “I am angry because such a thing has happened in the first place. You are a dear friend, Sans, and I would not be able to bear losing you.” 

Sans makes a noise before letting silence cross the room once more. Eventually, Toriel settles back, removing her hand from in front of him, and you can only assume that the shape will disappear back inside of his chest. She stands and straightens her skirt. 

“There, all fixed. Are you feeling back to your full strength?”

“i could sleep forever.”

“YOU ALWAYS WANT TO SLEEP, BROTHER,” Papyrus says with a dramatic sigh as he and Grillby walk over to join all of you. He places his hands on his hips and looks down at his brother with an affectionate expression. “THOUGH I AM GLAD THAT YOU ARE SAFE NOW.”

“You will agree to tell us what happened, will you not?” Toriel pushes.

Sans’ grip on your hand loosens so that it’s no longer an urgent, panicked grip. Instead, it’s almost comfortable, relaxed, like this is normal. He’s completely back to normal, no distorted edges, no panic written across his face, no rigid posture. He’s totally comfortable again.

“yeah,” he says. “you might wanna pull up a chair.” 

The three still standing do so, making your gathering a small circle in the middle of the bar. You’re not sure why you didn’t all just move to a table. 

“Do not leave anything out,” she tells him. 

“i won’t.” Sans sucks in a breath. “so i got a little flustered. somethin’ my bud here said made me a little embarrassed and i decided to go get some air. went out back so i wouldn’t have to look at anybody. had to get myself centered so i could ‘port her home, ya know? didn’t even notice that, uh, our froggit-faced pal had put himself right in the path i was pacin’. didn’t have time to react.”

“YOU MUST BE MORE VIGILANT, BROTHER,” Papyrus says. “I UNDERSTAND THAT OUR HUMAN FRIEND SAYS SOME EMBARRASSING THINGS SOMETIMES, BUT THEY ARE NOT SOMETHING TO LET CLOUD YOUR MIND! IGNORE HER COMMENTS.”

You shoot the tall skeleton a look, and he gives you a nervous grin. 

“What was it that she said that flustered you?” Toriel asks gently. “Perhaps you should tell her, so that she does not repeat it. We cannot have you lowering your guard.”

“uh, i think she knows,” he says quietly, eye lights flicking over to you. You make a point to look away. 

“Don’t worry about it,” you mumble. “Won’t say it again.”

Except you probably will. He asked you to. 

“I WANT TO KNOW WHAT WAS SAID,” Papyrus urges. 

“I think we can at least respect their privacy a bit,” Toriel says, a knowing lilt lining her voice. “There were no others that you saw? It was only the one in the Froggit mask?”

“if anyone else was there, i didn’t see ‘em.” 

She hums, but nods anyway. “We will have to look into it and see if we can find anything.”

Grillby catches your attention by waving his hand in your direction while everyone else is focused on Sans. You stare at him for a long moment, and when he gestures to Toriel, you think you get what he means.

“Hey, Toriel,” you say. She looks over at you. 

“What is it, my child?” 

“I know we have the  mysterious near-death of Sans to figure out, but there’s another thing I wanted to tell you about as soon as you got home.” She tilts her head, signalling that she’s all ears. “I went to lunch with my parents today, and, um, in the window of where we went, there was this little Froggit figurine,” you go on. “My dad told me that it means it’s a monster-free place, and if any monsters try to go in, the cult will come ‘defend’ the business.” Her face hardens, and you feel an air of regality around her. She’s going into queen mode, trying to figure out what to do to make things work for all of her subjects, a feat you’ve only witnessed a couple of times. “I don’t think many monsters know about that, if any. Sans hadn’t heard about it before I told him.”

“Thank you,” is all she says. 

“WE SHOULD HEAD HOME,” Papyrus suggests. “IT HAS BEEN A STRESSFUL DAY, AND I THINK THAT SANS SHOULD GET HIS REST.”

“‘m fine, paps, tori just brought me back to normal.”

“I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOU COULD SLEEP FOREVER.”

“i could do that even if i wasn’t hurt.”

“SANS.”

The shorter brother chuckles and stands, slipping his hand away from yours. “alright, bro, we can head home,” he says. “just let me get the human back home first.”

“That is not necessary. I am headed there already. It only makes sense for me to take her,” Toriel cuts in. 

“IT IS A BAD IDEA TO DO SUCH ADVANCED MAGIC SO SOON AFTER RECOVERING,” Papyrus agrees.

“no, no, i need to,” he insists. “part of the, uh, friendship date.” He gives you a wink and you glare at him.

“I don’t think I want to go on anymore friendship dates with you if they’re going to include you almost dying,” you say. 

He chuckles, then stands up and offers you his hand. “pap, i’ll be right back to let you drive me home,” he says. 

You take his hand and stand, and he pulls you in close, a little dramatically for him. You receive no warning before you blink and you’re in the middle of Toriel’s entryway. You can hear Undyne and Frisk in the living room, just out of sight. He lingers for a few seconds longer than he normally would before releasing you. 

“You’re going to hear about that from Paps,” you say, keeping your voice down so that they don’t hear you. “He’s not gonna be happy.”

“that’s ok.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and scuffs his slipper against the floor. “sorry. for, uh, runnin’ out on you like that.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “I should have stopped you.”

“that woulda made things worse, i think.” He looks away, over to the living room. The light from the lamps in there don’t quite shine far enough for you to see very well where you’re at. The only part of his face you can really make out is the eye lights flicking over your face when he looks back. “thanks, by the way.”

“For what?”

“for bein’ there. you made it a little bit easier for me to hold on.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “And how’s that?”

“i had to get you home.” 

You do everything in your power not to snort loud enough for Undyne to hear you. “Really? That’s it?” 

“yup.” He nudges you and winks. “see ya, pal.”

Before you can respond, he’s gone.

You venture into the living room after moving your phone from your bag to your pants pocket, and immediately, you’re tackled into a hug by Frisk. Undyne stands from her seat on the floor and gives you a questioning look, placing one hand on her hip. 

“How’d it go?” she asks. 

“It was really nice, for the most part,” you say, opting to leave out the bit where Sans almost, uh, bit the dust. “I, um, told him. I don’t think he believed me, but he was really sweet afterwards.”

“YOU FUCKING--” She launches herself over the back of the couch, which you were using as a barrier between the two of you. She slams her hands down on your shoulders and stares into your face. “You told him?! You confessed and he ignored it?! How dare he! I’m gonna dust the little shit!” She catches you wincing at the mention of dust, and she backs away. “Hey, no, sorry, I was kidding. Did something else happen that you’re not telling me..?” 

“Let’s talk about it with Toriel when she gets home,” you say quietly. 

“Alright, well, uh, how about you come join our really crazy game we were just playing?” she suggests. She offers a kind smile.

“Maybe I’ll sit back and watch for a round,” you reply, looking over to Frisk as they wander back to a very custom-looking game board.

You sit on the couch, much to Undyne’s displeasure, and watch them play what you think is a very intense game of Monopoly crossed with Risk. You feel your phone buzz in your pocket. You shift a bit to get it out and turn on the screen. 

**Sans (10:07PM): i know it wasn’t the drink talkin earlier.**

You feel your face become aflame once more, and you take a moment to think. After everything that happened tonight, he still feels the need to tease you about confessing? You thought you had made him uncomfortable. You thought that he didn’t want to hear about it.

Apparently you were very, very wrong.

You make an effort to come up with a response. Something… short, that he won’t be able to tease you for. Maybe something not left open to a response. Something quick and easy and simple.

**You (10:11PM): I’ll still tell you again later.**

Perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE. SUPER EARLY UPDATE.  
> I'm going to treat the " **Updates every Monday** " thing more as a guideline, I think. If you don't see a chapter sometime in the middle of the week, then you're at least guaranteed one on Mondays, unless something happens, in which case I'll make a post about it on the good ol' tumbly.  
> Thanks for participating in my science project, my loyal sin children. You will be well rewarded. Eventually.  
> [The good ol' tumbly](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)


	24. Spencer and Other Shenanigans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate title for this chapter: Spencer and Other SANSanigans  
> In which the author introduces another minor character because why the fuck not and other things happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -slams hands on desk-  
> WHICH ONE A' YOU JERKS ASKED ME FOR A 10K WORD+ CHAPTER?!  
> None of you..?  
> Have one anyways. Just don't get used to it. Think of it as a good excuse for my lateness.

Sans has been kept home for nearly a week, and that actually means that he’s been at Toriel’s house with you and Frisk more often than not. He doesn’t seem to mind not being able to work and being told to keep his feet up until Toriel is absolutely convinced that he’s completely better - you found out that she doesn’t have much confidence in her healing abilities. Papyrus has assured you that his brother has been healed since Toriel helped him at Grillby’s, but he does think that it’s a good idea for him to rest.

This particular morning has been difficult, to say the least. You woke up to Asgore having Frisk do some really old worksheets from before they started being home schooled again because he “could not find the new ones” (because you hadn’t printed them yet). Frisk then decided that even if you brought down the new ones, they wouldn’t have to do them simply because they’ve already done school work. Thankfully, Toriel was there, a steaming cup of coffee prepared for you in hand, to back you up. Frisk is currently sulking at the kitchen table, but that’s okay. For now, you’re drinking your coffee in the upstairs office, responding to Mrs. Anderson’s email (she’s been kept up to date with everything in your life in exchange for the smuggled lesson plans and worksheets, as the initial agreement went) and waiting for the worksheets to print. Speaking with her via email has become an almost everyday thing, and you’ve actually found it to be enjoyable.

You briefly go over the lesson plan for the day detailed in her email one more time - more multiplication and division (but with fractions this time!), simple introductions to the solar system, more grammar practice, and “time in the music room”, which is really just an hour of Frisk working on whatever they want to, though normally you cave and tell them they can be done for the day. You’re going to have to stop letting them do that; Mrs. Anderson’s class has finally surpassed what Frisk had already known, so all of this is new territory, and you’d prefer that they fully understand everything that’s going on. Toriel seems to prefer it that way as well. 

You send off your response and turn your attention back to the printer. You start piecing together the packets that are already done and stapling them at the corners. The fun part is going to be convincing Frisk to cooperate long enough to get through the work. You’ll probably have to promise to do something nice for them afterwards.

You sigh. Everything is an exchange with that child.

Your cup is empty by the time that you reach the bottom of the stairs, papers in hand. Frisk crosses their arms and dramatically looks away when they see you. You’re unimpressed. You drop the papers on the table as you pass, moving to the coffee pot to refill your cup. They grimace. There’s a note on the counter by the coffee pot that says something about Toriel and Asgore already leaving to take care of business, and that they’ll call later to check up on you and Frisk.  You take your bottle of creamer from the fridge (Toriel stocked up on it once she found out that you like it) and decide to just use that instead of adding sugar. 

As nice as it is having her look after you, you really need to get moved back into your apartment. You still feel like you’re taking advantage of her kindness.

The clock says it’s still morning, but you figure you should probably start trying to win back Frisk’s affections now so that they’ll cooperate and get their work done before Toriel comes home. When you go to put the creamer back in the fridge, you pull out the milk and chocolate syrup and get to work putting together your peace offering. Once it’s done, the materials go back in the fridge and you carefully sneak up behind Frisk, placing the glass in front of them. They look back at you with a giant grin. 

You don’t have time to slide into the seat across from them and get started before the front door swings open rather violently. 

Ah, there’s the other child you have to babysit. 

You pick Flowey up from his spot in the middle of the table and move him to the end so that he can sit in a sunbeam (alongside Neo, of course) and walk to meet your guests, who are surprisingly silent. You find Papyrus trying to push Sans into the house, though pushing doesn’t really work when there’s a small step up to get in the door. 

“AH, GOOD MORNING, HUMAN,” Papyrus says happily. “WE WERE GOING TO TRY TO SURPRISE YOU.”

“It’s a little hard to surprise me when you slam the front door into the wall,” you tell him after a sip of coffee. “I don’t think the hinges are supposed to go that far that quickly.”

“tori keeps tellin’ him that, too,” Sans says. He sounds like he’s thoroughly enjoying his brother’s efforts. 

“SANS, WOULD YOU PLEASE JUST GET IN THE HOUSE?”

Sans reaches an arm out so it just barely crosses the threshold. Papyrus groans. 

“Come on, whole body in the house,” you urge. “You can go back to sleep in here or something.” 

Sans sighs and shrugs. “you got me.” He straightens himself, throwing Papyrus off balance a little bit, and steps up into the house. 

“I SUPPOSE THIS CONCLUDES MY DELIVERY,” the taller skeleton says, back to being  chipper. “I WILL RETURN TO TAKE HIM HOME THIS EVENING.”

“Have fun at work, Paps,” you say. “I’ve got this under control.”

“NYEH! I DO NOT DOUBT YOUR ABILITIES,” he responds. “SANS, BEHAVE YOURSELF PLEASE.”

“ok.” 

“SANS, I’M SERIOUS.”

“ok.” 

Papyrus groans, but smiles and waves at his brother before turning on his heel and heading down towards the driveway. You shut the door behind him and turn to the smaller skeleton, who has started to walk away. 

“Frisk and I are about to start their school work, so if you could hold off on distracting them, that’d be great,” you tell him. Over the past few days that he’s been here, he would do whatever he could to keep Frisk off task, and you’re pretty sure he only does it to see you squirm. 

“what, i’m not allowed to sit and watch anymore?” he asks, almost whining, a mischievous look on his face. 

“No, you’re not.” 

“boo.” He gives you a thumbs down before you walk past him and into the kitchen. Frisk is already powering through the math work, and as you look over their shoulder, you see that maybe Mrs. Anderson’s class isn’t as far ahead as you initially thought. 

You finish off your coffee before swiping their empty glass and placing both in the sink. When you return to sit across from them, Sans has appeared in the seat next to them, one of the papers in hand. You slide into your chair and raise an eyebrow at him.

“I said no watching,” you remind him.

“i know,” he says, “but can i teach them this one?”

That’s more than a little surprising. “Which one?”

He shows you the paper he’s holding. It’s their science assignment. He seems excited, almost enough to call it giddy. You take a breath.

“Yeah, go for it,” you tell him. “Let them finish their math and grammar first, then we can get into that.”

You check over Frisk’s finished math problems (surprisingly, they’re all correct) and start on the grammar, telling them that you want them to be done as soon as possible. They seem on board with this and watch your hands intently as you explain how things work. You underline examples and important things to remember on their worksheet and watch them work on their practice sentences, fixing grammatical mistakes in the purposely awful statements given to you by Mrs. Anderson. They get stuck a few times, but they figure it out fairly quickly by going back to what you had underlined. They hardly ask any questions before it’s time for you to check it over and give them the go-ahead for the next lesson.

Sans is practically vibrating in his seat. 

You cast him an odd glance as he pushes the work close to Frisk and scoots closer to their side, starting to talk quietly about what the solar system is. Frisk nods along and listens closely. You’re a little jealous that Sans can speak to them without signing, but there’s nothing that can be helped there. He’s made mostly of magic. You’re mostly water. Water does not have magical properties, unless you believe in that sort of thing. Even then, you can’t communicate with Frisk with anything but your hands.

It could be worse. You could have never learned to sign. Then you wouldn’t be able to communicate with them at all.

...You wouldn’t have met them at all. You only know them and their monster friends  _ because _ you know sign language and  _ because _ Frisk is deaf. You just so happened to align perfectly with the child’s needs when they entered the school. 

You have to accept it. You wouldn’t have it any other way. Maybe one day there’ll be some freak accident that gives you magical ability and lets you speak to Frisk. 

You shake your head at yourself and get up to make lunch - it’s already pushing noon. Nothing like that would ever happen. You know that magic probably doesn’t work that way, and even if it did, what good would it do? You can communicate with them just fine how you are, and part of you wants to hold onto your pure humanity.

You get some grilled cheese going on the electric griddle and look back over your shoulder at Sans and Frisk. Sans seems much more excited than the child does. You knew he was into science, what with him mentioning working in a lab with the old royal scientist and Alphys in the Underground, but you’re not sure what he did, exactly. He’s still a mystery to you…

...but from the looks of it, he seems to really like space.

You suppose that would account for the billion NASA t-shirts he has. Actually, you’re pretty sure he’s wearing one now. While you still don’t know too much about him, you figure that his recent accident will somehow bring him closer to you. After all, he  _ did _ rely on you pretty heavily while waiting on Toriel. He’s denied any of the hand-holding ever happening anytime someone brings it up, but he has been a little friendlier, at least. 

That brings a small smile to your face as you put Frisk’s sandwich on a plate and cut it into two triangles (they’ve reminded you that it’s the only acceptable way to eat a sandwich about a dozen times in the past week or so). You walk it over to them and place it down beside the papers in front of them. 

“Want one?” you ask Sans. He barely looks away from the paper to shake his head at you, not even breaking his line of speech. 

He’s really into this space thing.

It takes a while for them to get through the science bit. Frisk slowly warms up to the idea of it and starts asking a ridiculous amount of questions that are outside the realm of what’s on the paper, and you continuously have to remind Sans not to get too far into detail or he won’t be able to give them the lessons for the rest of the unit (his face lights up at the sound of teaching Frisk the entire space unit), and he listens. He begins cutting off questions with “no comment” as an answer, and he becomes amused at Frisk’s annoyance whenever he says it. It almost turns into a game, with him saying he can’t explain any further and Frisk signing with a pout on their face (you interpret that as whining) that it’s not fair for him to withhold information because they’re actually interested now and  _ that’s not nice, Sans _ . 

You clean up the dishes and the electric griddle from making Frisk’s lunch and sit across from them one more time while they finish up their science worksheet. You smile over at Sans.

“Thanks,” you say. “They never get that interested when it’s me teaching it.”

“you’re not as passionate about science as i am,” he says simply. “passion shows when you’re teachin’ something to someone. makes them more interested in picking it up.”  
“You say that like you’ve taught a million classes before,” you tease. “You must be a really old skeleton to have that kind of wisdom.”

“no kidding.”

“How old  _ are _ you?”

“old enough to be considered nothin’ but a bag of bones.”

You try to glare at him, but you have to admit that you’re a bit amused at his antics. 

“Okay, so older than dirt.”

“i wouldn’t say  _ that _ old,” he says. “just... old enough that i don’t wanna share.”

“One day I’ll pry it out of you,” you tell him.

“and how old are you?” 

“Old enough to drink,” you say. “Old enough to almost be finished with my degree. Old enough that I don’t wanna share.”

He snorts at the last part, and Frisk shoves their worksheet towards him, silently asking for him to check things over. 

“looks good, kiddo,” he says, giving them a thumbs up. “you done for the day?”  
Frisk nods vigorously and looks over at you, as if waiting for permission. They definitely overstepped the “Science” time and moved into “music room” time, so you think it’s okay to let them off the hook one last time. You nod your consent and they bolt from the table, leaving the mess of papers for you to clean up yourself. You shake your head and start gathering the papers, organizing them so that when you head upstairs to sort them into their binders, it’s a little easier on you. You cross the two stacks, one with worksheets and one with handouts, and stand from your seat once more. 

“Keep them entertained for a minute? I’m going to go sort these,” you say to Sans. He grunts and heads over into the living room, where Frisk has turned on the TV and is ignoring everything around them. 

You go upstairs and open the door to the office. You pull the binders off of the shelf (one for each subject, each divided into a section for handouts and a section for completed worksheets) and sort the papers into their respective places. This way, Toriel can go through and see what Frisk has done during the day when she gets home and ask you any questions she might have. You carefully place them back in order and go back downstairs, careful to close the door behind you. As kind as Asgore is, he doesn’t like it when Neo goes in the office and gets cat hair all over the keyboard, so you figure you can prevent that much for him.

You join Sans on the couch and watch as Frisk tries to put together the rest of a puzzle they had been working on over the past few days. They’ve been adamant about not receiving help from anyone, and while they only have a handful of pieces left, they seem to be having some serious trouble figuring it out. Eventually, the pieces are thrown down and they look up at you with a stern expression.

* _ ”Can’t we go out?” _ they sign. 

You look at the clock. It’s past noon now, closer to twelve-thirty, so Toriel won’t be home for another few hours. You sigh and look to Sans.

“What would we ev--”

A rapid succession of knocks on the front door interrupt your sentence, and you sigh and start walking over to answer it. You hear Sans quietly tell Frisk what you’re doing. You open the door to reveal a very excited, just about jumping in place… Nolan? His hood is down for once, and a ski mask is on top instead. He’s holding a dark book that looks like it might be a portfolio. 

“Oh, babe, dude, please, oh my god, you’ll never guess what happened,” he says with all of the excitement of a four year old in a toy store. 

“Do you want to come in and explain?” you ask, stepping back and opening the door a little further.

“Yeah! Yes, really quick!” He steps in and barely waits for you to close the door behind you before starting. “So I met this guy, okay? He’s really cool and nice and, holy shit, dude, you’d love him. He’s a photographer. Found him downtown on my way to Grillby’s taking a picture of something of mine. I was all ‘Hey! The fuck you think you’re doing?!’ and he’s just ‘I’m sorry, this art is so cool, I had to take a photo’ and when I told him it was mine he got real excited and started asking a ton of questions… My favorite of which was the one where he asked if he could officially document my street art in portfolios and maybe help me make a name for myself! I don’t know how that’s gonna work, since half my art gets painted over, but dude! So cool!”

Nolan has never explained anything to you so energetically. Sans ventures over, Frisk holding tightly to him. All you can do is grin at your friend. 

“That’s super cool, Nolan,” you say. “I’m really happy for you! This could be huge.” 

“It  _ is _ huge!” he exclaims. “You gotta meet him.”

“I have to what?”

“Meet him, babe, come on! He’s waiting at the park right now! I’ve got a piece to finish and he wants a picture as soon as it’s done.” 

“Nolan, it’s barely afternoon. You can’t spray paint in broad daylight.”

“I do all the time.” He shrugs. “Look, under the bridge, nobody can see us unless they’re looking for us, I swear.”

“What am I supposed to do about my charges?” you ask, gesturing to Sans and Frisk. 

“I dunno, bring the kid and your bonebuddy with. They’ll probably like him, too.” 

“bonebuddy?” Sans echoes incredulously. 

“Ignore him,” you advise him. “Frisk was just saying they want to go out, so we might as well.” 

“tori’s gonna flip.”

“If we tell her we took Frisk to the park, it won’t be so bad,” you rationalize. “It’s not a lie. Besides, I’m not  _ obligated _ to tell her that we were with my street art-creating pal. If you guys can keep a secret, so can I.”

Sans quietly murmurs the plan to Frisk, and they give you a wide grin and a thumbs up. Sans sighs and gives you a thumbs up as well, almost reluctantly. You don’t think he really wants to go anywhere, but oh well. You’re supposed to be watching him, so he can come with. 

Besides, you don’t think you’ll be out that long. He’ll survive. 

“Great! Yes, hah, let’s go,” Nolan says. “Get in the Fun Mobile and we’ll go.” 

You follow Nolan over to his car after putting on some shoes - it’s small and black and not unlike Kendra’s - and get into the front seat at his command. You shove aside a bag filled with paint cans and look over to your friend as he gets behind the wheel. Sans and Frisk seem comfortable enough in the back with another bag of paint cans, so you’re not too worried. Nolan usually keeps his junk in the front seat with him anyhow. 

“Excuse the mess,” he says, as if it’s an afterthought. “Don’t give me that look, babe, it’s not that far of a drive. Your little feet will be fine.” 

“Is Frisk buckled?” you ask Sans, looking back at them through the mirror on your sun visor. He looks over at Frisk and nods back at you. 

“Fun Mobile engage,” he says dramatically as he starts up the car. It lurches forward a little before it really gets going. Nolan turns up the radio and grins over at you. You can’t help if the Fun Mobile (formerly known as the Death Trap) is really safer than it was before. It’s old and needs more work that Nolan has probably had done on it, but it runs and gets him from place to place in one piece. Hopefully it’s safe enough for Frisk. You don’t want to have to deal with Toriel’s stern lecturing when you get home. 

It takes less time to get to the park from Toriel’s than it did to get to it from Sans’ apartment, which makes sense considering that it’s somewhere in the center of this particular suburban area. Nolan drives straight past the playground and soccer fields and turns into the parking lot at the very back. You’re the only ones parked there. He pulls his bag out from under your feet and gets out, gesturing for all of you to follow. You do. The parking lot is all dirt and gravel, which Frisk seems excited about, seeing as they immediately stoop down to pick up some of the pebbles and throw them as far as they can. You lightly touch their shoulder as Sans gets out of the car and keep your fingertips just barely against them while you walk forward towards the nature paths. 

Nolan had mentioned a bridge, so it only makes sense that you’re being led deep into the nature trails, surrounded by trees and other unkempt growth. The trees provide enough shade that you wish you had brought a jacket, but when you immediately warm up every time you walk through a spot of dappled sunlight. Frisk tries multiple times to run off into the wooded area, but thanks to an effort on both yours and Sans’ parts, you keep them on track and right behind Nolan.

After nearly ten minutes of silent walking, you come across the riverbank, which is steep and a bit worrisome. The path hangs a sharp left, winding along the edge of the river’s incline, and Nolan follows it. You put Frisk on the side of you furthest from the bank as you follow. With their level of mischief today, you wouldn’t put it past them to accidentally fall in. 

Knowing them, they’d probably jump in on purpose. 

The bridge is made of cobblestone with a solid concrete underside and has a significant arch to it. Down underneath it, you can see someone sitting in wait. He’s dressed rather brightly in a blue shirt and jean shorts, and seems a bit out of place. Judging by the black strap around his neck and the camera barely visible in his hands, you can guess that this is the guy Nolan had been talking about. 

Nolan clambers down the incline, which is by far less steep here by the bridge. You let go of Frisk and follow him down without a word, though you do use Nolan’s shoulder to steady yourself. Sans stands at the top while you help Frisk down, then follows as well.

The stranger stands, turning to all of you with a big smile and an excited expression. He has blond hair that, based on the way it flops into his eyes and he pushes it away, is long overdue for a trim. His eyes are dark, almost as dark as Nolan’s, but they sparkle more with inspiration than mischief. 

“You’re here!” he says. 

“Hope you didn’t wait long,” Nolan replies. “Remember that friend I was tellin’ you about? This is her.” He holds a hand out to you, as if putting you on display. 

“It’s a pleasure,” the stranger says, holding out a hand for you to shake. You take it. “My name is Spencer. I’m a freelance photographer, and I’m going to try to help Nolan make it big.” You open your mouth to speak, barely getting out an introduction before he stops you. “Oh, you don’t have to introduce yourself. Nolan told me all about you.”

You smile at him. As far as tone and mannerisms go, he’s awfully sweet. “It’s nice to meet you, Spencer,” you reply. “This is Frisk, and that over there is my friend Sans.” 

Sans scoots away a little further and gives Spencer an odd look. He just smiles in return.

“Great to meet all of you. I didn’t know he was bringing more people to watch him work.” 

“came to meet you, bud,” Sans says before you can reply. You recognize his tone of voice. It’s dark and almost creepy. There’s something that he doesn’t like about Spencer, you can tell. 

Speaking of, he leaves his eyes trained on the skeleton for a long moment before letting out a short, embarrassed laugh and looking away. “Sorry, I don’t mean to stare. You’re just the first skeleton monster I’ve ever seen. I’m… intrigued.”

“‘s fine.”

You tap Sans’ arm with your fist and give him what you hope is a reassuring smile. His expression relaxes a little bit, but not enough for anyone any farther away than you are to notice. You decide to turn your attention to Nolan as he drops his bag of paint cans on the ground and pulls his ski mask down over his face. He draws out a few cans and scoots underneath the bridge, on a small stretch of bank that will eventually collapse if he stands there long enough. You can’t quite get the angle to see, but you can hear the hissing of aerosol and you can smell the harsh scent of chemicals and paint. It’s been a long time since you’ve been with Nolan while he left a tag, and you find yourself wishing Kendra were here. She would love it and would probably go on and on about nostalgia the entire time.

Actually, it’s extremely strange that she’s not. She and Nolan are practically inseparable. You’ll just have to assume that she’s at work or something, doing something a little more productive with her life than watching her friend vandalize public property in the name of art. 

“Something on your mind?” Spencer asks, pulling you from your trance. You look over at him. 

“Not really, just wondering why another friend of ours isn’t here.”

“If you’re talking about Kendra, she was earlier,” he explains. “She had to leave for work though, so Nolan thought he should run and grab you after he dropped her off.” 

“I see,” is all you can manage. Looking at his face again, he has this doofy, ridiculous grin plastered on his face. You think it’s permanent. He had the same look on his face when you first walked over, and it hasn’t really changed much since then. 

Frisk starts to get bored of waiting after a few minutes and starts trying to follow Nolan down underneath the bridge. It takes quite a bit of chasing and capturing by both you and Sans to keep them within an arm’s length of you, but they eventually settle for investigating the water. Spencer keeps his gaze more or less on Sans, and with the way his fingers are twitching on the camera he holds, you can only guess he’s trying his hardest not to take pictures. Your skeletal friend seems very uncomfortable under the photographer’s watchful eye. 

Nolan emerges sooner than you expected, maybe half an hour later, pushing his mask back on top of his head and adopting a shit-eating grin. He tosses his cans back in his bag.

“She’s done,” he says triumphantly. “Spence, you might wanna cross over to get a picture.”

“Roger,” Spencer sings, just about flying over the bridge. 

You find yourself following him, curious about what kind of mark Nolan decided to leave this time. As you edge down the opposite bank, sticking closely behind Spencer, it comes into view. It’s much like his usual tags - a black gear with a brightly colored N in the center - but this one features skeletal hands gripping at the sides, as if holding it in place. That’s definitely new.

“What’s with the alteration?” you call over. If you’re honest, you’re almost upset that he didn’t do one of his more intricate pieces. Aside from the skeleton hands, you’ve watched him put up this exact tag half a million times. It’s like his signature, but when he has the time and the space to do something cool, normally he’d seize the opportunity. He could have easily painted the entire bottom side of this bridge, but he didn’t. 

That’s his call, you suppose. Call it his artistic intuition.

“Your bonebuddy inspired me!” he calls back, slinging an arm around Sans’ shoulders. “It’s a nice touch, huh? Was weird and stupid hard getting the joints to look right.”

“This is  _ so cool _ !” Spencer says, moving around you to start taking pictures. You decide to make your way back over to Frisk and Sans (Frisk is starting to get an idea and you’re scared it involves walking through the river to get to you). You climb back up the incline and cross the bridge, being careful not to slip on your way down the side where Sans waits. You use his shoulder to steady yourself on your shaky landing. 

“somethin’s wrong with that guy,” he whispers to you. “i don’t like ‘im.” 

“You don’t like anyone,” you reply. “Sans, give him a chance. We just met the poor guy.”

He huffs, but says nothing more and lets you step away from him. 

“The kid’s kind of a ditz,” Nolan says quietly, watching the blond stumble while trying to get as close to the bank as he could. “Not quite sure what’s going on around him, but he’s a good guy. Takes hella great pictures, that’s for sure. Kendra seemed to like him enough when I brought her by. Too bad she had to leave. You need to come around and see us more often.”

“I know I do,” you say a little guiltily. “I’ve been doing a bad job keeping in touch.”

“It’s ‘cause you’re busy watching the tyke,” he tells you. “Watch it, they’re gonna jump in.”

Sans moves a bit quicker than you’ve seen before to catch Frisk before they actually jump into the river. The child pouts and batters his arm with their fists, an act that leaves Sans unphased. 

“Watching them, taking care of their schooling, the whole nine yards,” you tell him. “I feel like their mom sometimes.”

“Cute, ‘cept that position’s filled by good ol’ Mama Toriel.” Nolan snorts. “I wish I had a queen like that. She’s adorable.”

“She’s scary when she’s mad.”

“I can imagine.” He shrugs, then turns his attention to the member of the party on the other side of the river. “Yo, Spence, you comin’ back or what?”

“Oh, shit, yeah, I am!” Spencer takes a few more pictures, trying to get different angles, before coming back over to meet the rest of you. He grins at you again, a bit sheepishly, and Sans takes a small step closer to you. 

Sans is a monster that can force himself to seem comfortable, but he’s really exuding hostility right now. If you didn’t know that he was just uncomfortable, then you would probably be a bit worried. 

“Did I show you guys the book? Holy fucking shit, dude, it’s the coolest thing,” Nolan says, grabbing the portfolio from the bag and opening it. “This kid knows his fucking photos.” It’s a bunch of photos, as you expected, all of Nolan’s artwork. The sides of buildings, underneath bridges, on roofs… Every canvas that Nolan would use is right there in the book. A lot of them are his tags, but there’s a two page spread dedicated to one of his more detailed pieces, something that was left up for months before the city decided to paint over it, and even then, you’re pretty sure the only reason they did was because the colors were fading and it wasn’t as eye catching anymore. 

You spend a little while flipping through the book, listening to Nolan recount the story behind each picture. More often than not, the story includes him running from the cops or hiding in a tight spot of a back alley so he doesn’t get caught, but he claims it only adds to the excitement. It’s a miracle that he has a clean criminal record with the amount of trespassing he does and the amount of buildings he’s broken into for the sake of art.

Sans actually engages, pointing a few things out on some of the pictures and asking questions. This only spurs Nolan on, and you can feel Sans start to relax. Good. It’s stressful when he’s tense, even for you. Soon, they’ve gone through the entire book, and Nolan’s energy is finally waning. He yawns and picks his bag up, rubbing his eye and smudging his eyeliner without a care in the world. 

“I think we should head back. You good with riding with us?” 

“Oh, uh, wait, hey, before that,” Spencer cuts in, approaching you. “Here, let’s exchange phone numbers. You seem cool. Maybe we could hang out sometime?” 

“Uh, sure.” You take out your phone and exchange information with him. He smiles a little sheepishly at you as he puts his phone in his pocket.

“Great,” he breathes. “Hopefully sometime soon.”

“Yeah.” 

“alright, well, great meetin’ ya. we’ll be going now,” Sans says before any more words can be uttered. He pulls you rather forcefully into him, holding you tighter to him than he normally would. He grabs Frisk’s hand and pulls them a bit closer as well. 

His magic pools around you, and when you blink, you’re back at Toriel’s. 

“What the hell?” you hiss, stepping away from him. “You didn’t even let us say goodbye. I thought everything was fine?” 

“i don’t like ‘im,” he says simply. 

“Teleporting us out of there was beyond overreacting, Sans. And it came out of nowhere!”

“look, kid, when you meet as many people as i have, you start to recognize the bad eggs right away.”

“So you made an assumption based on a feeling?”

“didn’t like how he looked at you.”

“Sounds almost like jealously.” 

He stares at you for a long moment and grimaces. “the hell would i have to be jealous about?” 

“I don’t know, Sans, you didn’t seem to like how friendly he was,” you argue.  

“i ain’t havin’ this conversation right now.” He shoves his hands deep in his pockets and heads towards the living room. 

You’re a little peeved at him for shutting you down, but you figure he had the right to. You were speaking without thinking, even if he had been the irrational one to begin with. 

You intercept Neo as he tries to skirt past your ankles, lifting him and cuddling him against your chest. He offers no protest, and instead purrs and presses his face into your hand. What a nice change. He normally squirms and tries to get away from you when you cuddle him. You plant a kiss on his little kitty forehead before setting him on the floor. He wanders away, tail swaying in wide arcs before coming to rest in a little question mark shape. 

Frisk, who has just recently decided that they’re a movie buff and insist on seeing every movie in the house that Toriel would let them watch, is sitting in front of the DVD player, shoving in a disk before joining Sans on the couch. They look at you as you walk over to see what they’re doing and pat the seat next to them. Sans doesn’t give you half a glance as you walk past him to sit in your designated spot. 

He doesn’t give you half a glance for the duration of the movie. 

As you watch the charming tale of a kidnapped princess being rescued by her one true love from marrying a man that she finds atrocious, there isn’t a word between the two of you. He doesn’t even so much as snort at the funny bits, and honestly, you can’t really bring yourself to find the humor, either. 

Spencer is a sweet guy. You really can’t see what Sans’ issue might be, aside from the longshot that it’s jealousy. You’re allowed to make new friends without the skeleton’s permission. It’s not like you belong to him or anything. 

The front door opens, and you hear the rather heavy footsteps that you’ve come to associate with Asgore. He’s whistling some tune that you’ve heard him whistle before, normally when he’s especially pleased with himself. Toriel, as she comes over on much lighter feet, looks a bit annoyed, or stressed, even. Either way, it’s very unlike her. 

“Good afternoon, my children, Sans,” she greets the three of you. Frisk pauses the movie and looks up at her. “How has your day been?”

“Lessons went well,” you report. “We took Frisk to the park for a little while so they could run off some steam.” 

“lotta good that did,” Sans adds. “they’re still actin’ crazy.”

Frisk pouts at him.

“I see,” Toriel says, then releases a drawn out sigh. “Today has been… taxing, to say the least.” She takes a seat on the opposite couch, humming before continuing. “Asgore has insisted that he and I go on a date of sorts tonight.”

“And she said yes this time!” Asgore sings from the kitchen.

Toriel sends a short glare at his turned back and then flicks her eyes back to you. “Yes, well, it is a step I am willing to take to better this relationship.”

Over the course of your rather elongated stay with the monster monarchy, you’ve learned that Asgore was responsible for killing six human children, and in Toriel’s eyes, that was an act of cowardice. She still has not forgiven him for that, and while she’s willing to live with him and try to reconstruct the bond they once had, she often comes to you to vent about her annoyances with him. It’s sometimes a little tiring, but you actually feel honored that she can trust you with her marriage issues. 

Like you’ve been friends for much longer than you really have.

The important part, you think, is that she’s trying to fix things so that Frisk can grow up with a proper father figure, as they took no time at all to start calling Asgore “Dad”. 

“Anyways, the plan is to be out fairly late tonight,” she goes on. “Would you be okay with keeping an eye on Frisk while we are out? We will not be leaving for another little while, but I thought it would be best to run it by you now.”

“Of course I can watch the kid,” you say. Toriel’s face brightens. 

“Excellent! You can invite people to come over if you would like to. Perhaps Undyne and Alphys? Oh, Sans, if you could stay as well, I would feel much safer.”

Sans gives you the same look he gives the sock on his apartment floor when Papyrus is especially naggy and nods. “yeah, i’ll play babysitter.”

“Thank you, both of you.” Her expression melts into a very relaxed one and she smiles. “Bring Papyrus, too. I know he has been talking about staying over.” 

Come to think of it, it’s been awhile since you’ve had to take Frisk over to stay with Papyrus and Sans. Normally, they would be there every weekend, but since you moved in, you’ve been asked to stick around and keep an eye on them while Toriel and Asgore do their business. Maybe it’s because you’re like a live-in nanny now? Papyrus has been dropping hints about coming to see Frisk or having Frisk come over again. 

Frisk jumps over Sans to cling to Toriel, taking the remote with them and unpausing the movie. They’re done with the conversation and they’re ready to finish off this movie.

And apparently two more afterwards.

You’re sure that Frisk must have just about exhausted the shelf in the movie cabinet that holds movies that Toriel has deemed “appropriate” for them, including all of the penguin documentaries. There’s no way they can pull out any more movies that they haven’t seen, and it’s a pretty big shelf. It’s a pretty big cabinet. You’re pretty sure that they’re getting ready to start sneaking into the shelf below the shelf they’re allowed to watch, which consists of movies that are PG-13 (Toriel takes the ratings very seriously and is adamant about making sure Frisk is thirteen before they start watching any of those movies). Honestly, there’s a few that you think they could probably watch, a few that are only rated that way because of a bit of blood and some violence. It’s not like Frisk has never witnessed violence or seen blood. They’re a smart kid that wouldn’t go and try to recreate things that they see on a screen (at least, not usually). Still, Toriel is technically their parent, and you have to respect her wishes. 

At least while she’s around. You can’t say you’ve never let Frisk delve into the PG-13 shelf a little, though you were very picky about what movies you let them pick. Nothing that they might talk about with Toriel that might clue her in on your sneaky business. 

Frisk seems to appreciate it, at least.

Toriel turns off the TV once the final movie is over and removes Frisk from her lap before looking to you. “Will you help me get ready?” 

“Yeah, sure,” you say. 

She leads you upstairs, ignoring the weird look she gets from Sans and the fact that Frisk is still following her close enough to step on her heels. She opens her bedroom door (which is still a room separate from Asgore’s) and steps into the tidy space. Her bed is perfectly made, her desk perfectly organized. She has a bucket filled with snails next to her trash can, but you try not to think about that too much. Instead, you focus on her opening her closet and staring blankly into it. 

“I am not sure what to wear,” she says quietly. “It has been a long time since I have been on a date.” She looks back to you and Frisk, looking almost scared. “I am not sure what to do.”

* _ ”Wear something sexy!” _ Frisk signs excitedly. Toriel gives them a stern look and crosses her arms.

“I think you have been spending too much time with Mettaton if you are saying that word,” she scolds. 

Mettaton. You almost forgot about him. You would have if it weren’t for his billion commercials for his billion businesses. 

“What are you guys going out to do?” you ask her. 

She thinks for a minute. “I believe dinner and then a late showing of… something. I am not sure. He will not tell me what the tickets are for.”

“Wear something you’ll be comfortable in,” you advise. 

“What if we end up going somewhere a bit on the higher end? I do not know the details of his plan.”

“Then wear something that looks nice that you’ll be comfortable in.”

“My child, that is an awfully tall order.” A smile plays on her face for a moment. “It has been a long time since I have dressed up for much of anything. I would not know what is appropriate.”

You walk over to join her at the closet, and she steps aside to let you look through it. Most of it is the same dark purple as her normal dress, but she has a few dressy-looking suits that you think are cute. Shoved way in the back, though, you find a gem of sorts. It’s a sleeveless dress that looks like it would be rather form-fitting, made of a richer purple than her regular attire, but purple nonetheless. It would be absolutely perfect - not too casual, but definitely made of a material that you’d personally like to sleep in. When you pull it out, she immediately looks away, obviously embarrassed.

“Wear this,” you tell her.

“I… have not worn that in a very long time.” 

“Wear it.”

“That dress has certain memories associated with it.”

“Are they bad memories?”

“No, but--”

“Then why not wear it?” 

She takes it from your hands and holds it out in front of her, inspecting it with what soon turns into a fond smile. “I wore this on one of our first dates Underground, shortly after we discovered we were soulmates. He adored it. I have to admit that I have not changed in size since then, I know it will fit, but… I am not sure it is appropriate.”

“It’s totally appropriate,” you tell her. “Look, it’s cute, and it’ll make him think you care a little more about this date than you do.” 

She giggles at that, then lays it carefully on the bed. “I will wear it if that is what you think I should do, my child.”

“But what about accessories? And shoes?” you prod. “You can’t just pick out a dress and not pick out everything that goes with it.” 

Toriel gives you a knowing look and pulls out a jewelry box. “If I am going for nostalgia,” she says sweetly, pulling out a gold chain necklace with a beautiful amethyst pendant, “then I may as well wear the gift he gave me that night as well.” 

“It’s perfect,” you say. “Toriel, he’s going to love it.” 

“I believe this is more for my enjoyment now,” she tells you. “I am almost excited to see what kind of reaction this will make him have… Oh my, have I said too much?” 

Her paw covers her mouth as she watches your grin grow. Scheming Toriel is just  _ too cute _ . You didn’t take her for one to revel in watching how she can make others react. Maybe it’s just with Asgore. She knows him well, being his soulmate and all (you take it that the term means something a bit more literal to monsters than it does to humans), so maybe providing something unexpected is a lot more exciting for them. Knowing Asgore, words will completely escape him, which is something you’re looking forward to seeing as well. 

Frisk must be getting bored, because they start getting into her top drawer and pulling out her socks, making completely astonished and appalled expressions at each folded pair. When they catch you watching them while Toriel digs the matching shoes from her closet, they grin and sign to you, * _ ”Scandalous!” _ . You can’t help but snort at that. They must be able to read your amusement on your face, because their grin splits even wider. 

“Well, I figure I should get changed and ready,” Toriel says, bringing your attention back to her. “Perhaps you should go make sure that Asgore is not going to wear one of his hideous Hawaiian shirts. Have Frisk pick something better for him” 

“Will do,” you say, scooping the child up and shutting the drawer with your elbow. You lead them from the room and they sprint over to Asgore’s bedroom, knocking rapidly on the door, and rather loudly at that. He opens the door with a surprised look, wearing a halfway buttoned Hawaiian shirt. 

“Take that off,” you tell him. “Toriel said no Hawaiian shirts. Let Frisk pick something.” 

Frisk shoves their way past him and starts digging in his closet, choosing a solid blue dress shirt for him to wear over his khakis instead. You give him a thumbs up and make the child follow you downstairs. Asgore follows not too far behind. 

“I suppose I will wait for her down here,” he says, voice quiet for him. 

“What are you taking her to do?” you ask him, settling on the couch on the opposite end from Sans. The skeleton looks unimpressed. 

“That is a surprise for her,” he says. “I am afraid that if I tell you, you may somehow spoil it.”

“Have a little more faith in me, Asgore,” you say, feigning offense. 

He smiles warmly at you as Frisk settles on the couch between you and Sans. You hear Toriel’s door open from upstairs, and the soft clicking of heels as she descends the stairs. Asgore turns a bit slowly and freezes up when he looks up to see her. As you expected, something so simple on the boss monster looks absolutely stunning. You’re glad you dug it out of her closet and convinced her to wear the dress. The pendant sits gently beneath her collar bone, just low enough that it won’t be in any danger of falling beneath the neckline of the dress. 

Asgore has all of the courage of a kid on his first date when she comes down to meet him - he lowers his head and stutters before ultimately mumbling his compliments. You can only make out the word “beautiful”. You would think that the king of all monsters would be able to muster up some kind of courage to speak to his wife, but that notion is being proven wrong right in front of your eyes. Toriel gives him an amused look and takes her purse from the table. 

“I suppose we should be off,” she says, nudging him. 

“Ah! Y-yes, we will be going,” he agrees, jumping as if startled by her touch. “We will return later tonight, but do not feel the need to stay up to wait for us.” 

“Have a good time,” you say, giving them a short wave. Frisk jumps from your lap and runs to hug each of them. 

Toriel ruffles their hair lightly as they pull away from her. “Be good, alright?” 

Frisk nods and watches them leave, ensuring the door shuts behind them. They come back to you and Sans, planting their hands on their hips and huffing before signing, * _ ”When are the others coming over?” _

“i’ll text ‘em right now, bud,” Sans says, pulling his phone from his hoodie pocket as slowly as he possibly can. He taps out a message and slips the phone back in his pocket, giving Frisk a slow wink. “they’ll be here soon.”

Frisk seems to brighten a little. They fetch Flowey from the kitchen table and set him on the coffee table. He looks at you with narrowed eyes and hisses. Your cat doesn’t even hiss that much, and it’s in his nature to do it. You think the flower is just being dramatic. When Frisk flicks one of his petals, he swings around to glare at them. You smile a little. The flower’s antics are always amusing once you get past the fact that they’re vaguely menacing. Watching how reluctantly at ease he is with Frisk is interesting. He doesn’t seem to like many other people, though he gets along with Asgore from time to time, but Frisk appears to be the only one he really wants to put up with regularly. As a result, they cart him around in his flower pot for a majority of the time they spend at home, leaving him in sunbeams and watering him (though you’re sure he actually eats monster food, considering Sans had fed him meatballs at one point). If nothing else, the kid is learning responsibility. 

It doesn’t take long for the door to swing open violently. Luckily, Toriel had thought to install a cushion of sorts to the impact area to stop the wall from actually having a hole punched in it by the knob. You stand to go and greet your friends. 

Papyrus looks as if he’s already in pajamas, and it’s a sight to behold. It’s awfully… plain, actually. It looks reminiscent of what Sans wears on a daily basis - a graphic t-shirt and some basketball shorts, and he kicks some fairly new-looking sneakers off of his feet before venturing into the living room.

“I AM EXCITED TO SPEND THE NIGHT WITH YOU, MY DEAR HUMAN FRIENDS,” he exclaims. “COME, FRISK, AND TELL ME WHERE I MAY PUT MY BELONGINGS UPSTAIRS.” 

Frisk abandons the poke-and-prod game they’ve been playing with Flowey (much to the flower’s relief) and race up the stairs, followed closely by Papyrus. Undyne carefully shuts the front door and takes off her own boots, leaving her leather jacket and a bag on the back of one of the dining room chairs before joining you and Sans in the living room. 

“No Alphys?” you ask, looking around for the small yellow monster. It’s been far too long since you’ve seen her. 

“No, not tonight,” Undyne tells you. “She’s gotta redo all of that research that was stolen from her. It’s been late night after late night. Comes home and goes right to sleep.” She draws in a breath and releases it on a slow exhale. 

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly. 

“No worries! She calls and texts me all through the day, so it’s not like we never talk.” She adopts her signature grin and winks at you. “Besides, her being busy enables us to party tonight.” 

“party?” Sans echoes, raising a brow bone.

Before Undyne can speak, you can hear Papyrus and Frisk barrelling down the stairs. She clamps her mouth shut with a mischievous glint in her eye. You immediately grow suspicious and you want to tell her to knock off what she thinks he has planned, but you can’t bring yourself to. Not when Papyrus is bouncing excitedly in front of you.

“I HEARD PARTY,” he says. “I THOUGHT THIS WAS JUST A SLEEPOVER WITH MY DEAR FRIENDS, BUT IF WE’RE GOING TO PARTY, THEN THIS WILL BE MUCH MORE FUN! I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT I AM A PLEASURE TO HAVE AT PARTIES. WHAT KIND OF PARTY IS IT?” 

“A  _ Mario Party _ ,” Undyne hisses, pulling that particular hell-bringing game from the shelf. Again, you find yourself eyeing her suspiciously. She gives you a wicked smile before she turns to set up the game, fishing out the household’s three controllers and looking back at you and Sans. 

“I’m okay watching,” you say hastily, beating her to the question she was bound to ask. 

“‘m too tired to party,” Sans agrees, closing his eyes and melting back into the couch for dramatic effect. 

“Fine, have it your way,” she says, passing a controller to each Papyrus and Frisk. “We’re going to have a party without you guys and you can’t stop us.”

“didn’t want to, bud,” Sans mumbles, shooting a glance back to you.

He seems to more or less be back in a good humor. That’s good.

“BROTHER, IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO TAKE OVER FOR ME AT ANY TIME, PLEASE JUST LET ME KNOW,” Papyrus insists. 

Frisk looks back at you and gives you a thumbs up. You return the gesture, assuming that they mean the same thing Papyrus just said. 

“thanks,” is all Sans says before Undyne rudely starts the game, much to their surprise. 

The Mario Party tournament goes on for a few hours. In the middle of the third round or so, Papyrus insists on making spaghetti for dinner, which you end up closely supervising. It turned out surprisingly well for him, and everyone was able to stomach it. You might even call it enjoyable. They returned to the game and played for another few solid hours. You’d be a liar if you said you didn’t doze a couple of times, but you aren’t so rude as to blatantly snore like Sans has been doing since dinner was over. You stand and get to work washing up the dinner dishes, glad that you had convinced everyone to rinse the sauce from their plates before abandoning them. 

It’s really nice to have everyone over, you think. It’s almost like you’re hosting a get-together in your own home, with the way you’ve sort of been making sure everything goes okay. Frisk really missed having Papyrus around, too, and he missed the child as well (he’s made it painfully obvious). Sans looks like he’s having a good time, even if he is just lazing about as he normally would. Undyne… is a special case. She’s hollering and cursing and threatening and laughing and overall having what sounds like it might be the best time of her life. She’s really in her element, playing a competitive game with her friends. If nothing else, it brings a warm feeling to your chest. Papyrus’ outbursts are matching hers in volume, but definitely not in content. Where she’s spewing violent descriptions of how she’s going to claw her way to the top, Papyrus is applauding the strategies of his friends and just generally becoming a bouncing ball of bony excitement. 

You wander back to the couch once the dishes are done and left in the rack to dry and take your seat on the couch with Sans. The gameplay is slowing to a halt, with Frisk being the winner. They barely register it, you realize - it’s after ten o’clock, they’ve been at this game for a ridiculous amount of time, and it’s much past their usual bedtime. Papyrus carefully lifts them and carries them towards the stairs. 

“I think it is time we both retire,” he says in a hushed tone, careful not to wake the dozing Frisk. “Sans, I do not think I need my story tonight. I am too tired.”

“alright, bro,” Sans replies, looking over his shoulder as Papyrus heads up the stairs. You turn your attention back to Undyne, who has adopted her terrible, shit eating grin once more. She waits for Papyrus to come back downstairs to retrieve Flowey and then head back up again, shutting Frisk’s door behind him. After this is done, she stands, slowly, menacingly, and you’re just a little bit scared.

“I said we were gonna party,” she says, though her tone is much more subdued, like she doesn’t want to get ahead of herself. She walks over to the bag she left hanging on the back of one of the kitchen chairs and withdraws a bottle filled with a dark amber liquid. She heads into the kitchen, finding two glasses and putting a bit of ice in each of them, then brings them over to the coffee table and sets them down, pouring some of the liquid into each one. The bottle reads “ _ Grillby’s Hard Whiskey _ ”. 

“Grillby’s..?” you start. Sans immediately perks up, giving Undyne an almost reproachful look. 

“you know paps doesn’t like me drinkin’,” he says. 

“Papyrus doesn’t need to know, does he?” she says, and if she were being any louder, you’re sure that statement would be followed by a cackle. “You two are gonna have some whiskey and watch a bad movie or two and stop being so weird with each other, alright? It’s getting boring watching you two if nothing’s progressing, you know!” 

“then stop watching,” Sans grumbles. 

“NEVER.” She pauses, looking upwards and listening intently. When none of you hear any movement upstairs, she continues, much quieter, “Think of this as your get-along shirt. Except instead of a shirt, you’re drinking some whiskey. And thoroughly enjoying yourselves. And I’m heading home because Alphys will be back soon and you might want to hurry because last I checked, Toriel doesn’t like alcohol in the house.” She shrugs into her jacket and slings the bag over her shoulder, giving you an evil grin before heading for the front door. “Thanks for having me!” 

The door shuts securely behind her, and you grimace at the glass. You’ve never been one much for whiskey, or drinking in general, but to hell with it. Maybe you can let loose just this once. You reach for the glass nearest you and take a sip of the bitter liquid. It stings. You still don’t like whiskey. You raise an eyebrow at Sans. 

“We might as well drink what she already poured,” you tell him. 

He sighs and looks at the other glass, sitting in waiting. Slowly, he reaches out to take it in hand. He looks away to drink it, blocking your view of exactly how he manages to drink liquid without lips.

“careful,” he warns you. “stuff’s got a bit a’ magic in it on top of the alcohol. i wouldn’t drink more than that glass if i were you.” 

“Thanks for the warning,” you murmur. That would account for the extra stinging outside of the alcohol that you could recognize. You’d think by now that you could pick up on when you’re consuming something laced with magic. 

You put on some random comedy show on Netflix and try your best to stomach the bitter liquid served to you. Just the one glass of the stuff is enough to get you feeling a little fuzzy. Sans, on the other hand, seems to have no problem finishing his off. And getting more. And more. After a while, you start to get a little concerned. It’s a good thing he’s going to be staying the night, because judging by the blue blush across his face, he’s getting closer and closer to being drunk. You should really cut him off. You should cap the bottle and put it away, far away in a corner where it’ll probably be forgotten about. Before you can, Sans sets down his glass and doesn’t reach for the bottle. He hums and looks over at you, his dim, fuzzy eye lights flicking over your face. 

“y’know,” he murmurs, adjusting himself so that he’s on his knees on the couch facing you, head tilted and grin faltering. “y’know, i’d like it if i could tell ya what i think ‘a ya.” His voice slurs a bit, not enough that you can’t understand him, but enough that it’s a bit weird to hear it coming from him. It’s like you’re talking to a completely different monster - a monster with a very deep, very soothing voice. 

You twist so that you’re facing him as well, feet up on the couch, and you start to think that it may have been a bad idea. He leans forward, capturing your chin between his thumb and forefinger, bracing himself with his other hand on the arm of the couch behind you. 

“i wanna tell ya how cute ya look right now,” he goes on. “so scared. so unsure a’ what i’m gonna do. it’s perfect.”

He dips his head down so that his teeth graze your neck lightly, and after a moment of what feels like him gathering his drunken composure, you can feel just the slightest spark of magic. He removes his hand from your chin and places it lightly on your hip, working circles into it with his thumb. You feel his teeth part against your skin and a warm, slick  _ something _ press into the muscle connecting your neck to your shoulder and dragging up along your neck, stopping at the spot just below your jaw.

“i can’t be jealous without ya gettin’ mad,” he purrs. “i can’t have a bad feelin’ about someone without bein’  _ called _ jealous. can’t be near ya without bein’ accused ‘a claimin’ ya.” He chuckles, a dark sound that travels straight to your groin. “y’know, babe, maybe they’re right. what would ya do if ya found out i  _ did _ claim ya?” 

He lifts his head up to study your face, his eyes searching yours. He runs something - is that a  _ tongue? _ \- blue and slightly glowing along his teeth before lowering his head back to your neck. 

“maybe i should mark ya, so nobody gets any ideas.”

That should be setting off alarm bells in your head, putting up red flags, making you do  _ something _ besides just sit there and take it. No, instead you sit complacent, feeling your breathing grow a bit more shallow, feeling his jaw part again and again as he starts just underneath your jawline and works his way down your neck with small nips. His teeth are definitely sharper than they look, but not so sharp that such a small pinch would draw blood. He gets down to where your neck meets your shoulder once again and.

He.

Bites.

It hurts. It hurts a lot more than the nibbling did and you’re afraid that he’s never going to let go. He does though, barely, before running his tongue over it and biting back down again. A small, involuntary noise escapes your lips and you tilt your head away from him, as if granting access.

“so pretty,” he whispers, pulling away from you, relaxing just a bit, slumping forward to rest his forehead against your shoulder. It hurts. There’s a throbbing pain there and there’s going to be a bruise there and you’re not going to be a happy camper. 

At least the thought process is there. Your body won’t respond to you, not really, but as Sans grows heavier, so does the realization of what’s going on.

He fell asleep on you.

Literally.

You groan and carefully push him backwards until he’s laying down and you can get off of the couch without disturbing him. Your head is screaming in relief - if anything were to happen with him, you wanted it to be when both of you were of sound mind, though that requirement often goes unspoken. You didn’t want it here, not now, not like this, not while he’s drunk. You cap the bottle of whiskey and stow it in one of the low cabinets that Toriel and Asgore have a hard time getting to. It’s filled with extra paper towel and napkins, so you have to dig a little before you can get the bottle hidden in the back. You return for the empty glasses and look at Sans one more time. 

You wonder where that would have gone if he hadn’t fallen asleep. 

You head upstairs and change yourself into pajamas, already appreciating the sleep you’re bound to get. Undyne’s going to have hell to pay tomorrow, and you’re sure that Sans is going to be avoiding you for a little while. 

These are all valid things to worry about.

But with the heat pooling in your abdomen and the alcohol-induced fatigue slowing clouding your thoughts, that is all going to have to wait until tomorrow. You can worry then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take it, you vultures. Take the tiny scrap of sin that I'm willing to give you.  
> [Tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)


	25. Optimism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which people talk, a dinosaur war is ended, and we all hold our breath in anticipation for literally no reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks to Lusewing for running through this one early for me! Not writing for a few days and then picking it back up without reading through what was already done first really makes things a little wonky, and she was kind enough to make sure things weren't too weird. 
> 
>  
> 
> I'm back, bitches.

The son of a bitch left a bruise. 

Actually, he left multiple, each a small divot in your left shoulder making up the shape of a bite mark. Waking up to a throbbing in your head as well as your shoulder was its own level of frustrating, but looking at the damage in the mirror just makes you more pissed off than you already were. You ought to tear into him about it, to tell him how  _ not okay _ that was. Some part of him must have wanted to do it - while irrational, drunk people don’t really do things that they hadn’t at least thought about while sober. Alcohol impairs judgement, not desires. 

After further inspection, you decide that there’s no amount of makeup that can cover this monster of a mark, and you slip a zip-up jacket on instead. Luckily, the hood covers it if you keep it from falling off of your shoulders. The downside is that it’s starting to get a bit too warm for jackets. You’ll have to try to find a way to get rid of it quicker. You might have read somewhere that ice helps, or running a hairbrush over it for a while, but you’re not too sure how well that would work. You could ask Papyrus to heal it, but he’s going to be upset enough at his brother for drinking in the first place. God only knows how mad he’ll get at Sans for “hurting the human”, as you’re sure he’ll put it. 

Regardless of whether or not you work up the courage to ask Papyrus to heal it, you have to get ready for Frisk’s lessons. You move into the office to print off the worksheets, keeping your head low. You can’t see today turning out to be all that great. Your email from Mrs. Anderson for the day states that it’s a social studies day, so you don’t have to deal with Sans taking over the science position today. You add staples to the corners of the packets and make your way downstairs. 

Frisk is already waiting for you at the kitchen table, Flowey sitting in the center where he normally does, Papyrus next to them with a tall glass of milk. A quick glance at the clock tells you that you’ve slept way too late. Toriel and Asgore would have left already.

“AH, GOOD MORNING, HUMAN,” Papyrus greets you. “DID YOU SLEEP WELL?”

“More or less,” you say. “Do you know where Sans is?” 

“IN THE LIVING ROOM, STILL SLEEPING.”

You eye the coffee pot. You should probably make a cup before ruining Sans’ day, so you’re at least rational and capable of sitting down and having an adult conversation.  
You know what? No. He deserves your decaffeinated wrath.

“Thanks,” you say. “I just need to have a word with him.”  

You hand Frisk the math packet, which they immediately tear into, and make your way to the living room. As Papyrus promised, Sans is laying on the couch, much in the same position you left him in, but with a blanket thrown over him. You figure Toriel must have done that when she got home last night. Seeing him sleep so peacefully while your night was a little less than restful makes you a bit more annoyed than you already had been. You nudge him with your foot, a bit roughly, until he stirs, rolling over and looking at you. 

“Get up, bonehead,” you say. “I’ve got some words for you.”

“the fuck?” he groans, cracking an eye socket open. “what?” 

“Keep it down,” you tell him. “Papyrus doesn’t need to hear this conversation.”

“what conversation?” He sits up, rubbing at his socket with the heel of his hand. You glare at him. 

“About last night.” 

He stares at you for a long moment, as if trying to process what you’re saying. “what about it? we had a couple drinks, watched a comedy show, went to sleep.”

You keep your glare level. 

He sucks in a breath. “...i’m sorry?” 

“For what?” you push. 

“for... whatever i did?” 

“You mean you seriously don’t remember what happened?” 

“no, i don’t.”

You rub the space between your eyes. “Are you serious?” 

“very.” He turns to face you, looking confused. “look, kid, you wanna tell me what happened that’s so bad? seems like a big deal, and i can’t properly apologize if i don’t know what the hell i did. my head hurts. i want this over with so i can go back to sleep.”

You wait a long moment, feeling your heart slowly speed up to a pound and feeling your face flush. It’s… embarrassing to think about. You were both under the influence, him more so than you, but it’s still a little shameful to think about how you reacted, how you couldn’t pull yourself away from him. You could have. You could have told him no and done what you could to get away but you didn’t. You  _ liked _ it, and as upset at yourself as you are, you’d rather focus on the fact that he put you in that situation to begin with. 

“You… bit me,” you whisper.

“what?” 

“You bit me,” you hiss, a little more venom behind your voice. “You fucking bit me and it bruised and I’m pissed.” 

He’s silent. His expression shifts from confusion to mild horror to amusement as he takes in your words. He dissolves into quiet chuckles, resting his elbow on his knee and pressing his face into his palm, glancing up at you when he decides to speak.

“the way you were talkin’ made it sound like i slept with you or somethin’.” 

“Sans.” You cross your arms and try to give him a stern look. The thought of that happening has definitely not escaped you, and you’re sure that’s what would have happened if he hadn’t fallen asleep on top of you. “That’s not… That’s not the issue.” You suck in a breath. “Look, you were saying some weird shit. Like… about claiming me? And marking me so nobody got any ideas? Then you bit me.” 

Recalling his words makes you shiver, but not entirely in a bad way. As creepy as it was, you can’t say you hated it. 

But you’re still pissed.

Sans loses the amusement in his expression and raises both brow bones, sitting up straight. “let me see.” 

“...What?” 

“let me see where i bit you.” 

He stands, reaching out and tugging at your hoodie. You back away from him and look down at your feet. You’re not sure you want to feel his bones on you right now. You pull the hoodie away from your neck enough to expose the bruising. Sans gets a little closer to you, inspecting it with great interest. There’s a couple of times over the excruciatingly long minute that you think he might reach out to touch it, or lean in to make it worse, but he never does. Instead, he backs away, a light blue flush dusting his cheekbones as he does. He averts his eyes. 

“keep that covered,” he advises. 

“I’m going to,” you grumble. “And I’m going to stay pissed. You’re not off the hook.” 

“can’t really say i’m sorry,” he tells you. “keep it covered. you need me to teach the kid today?” 

Your eyes snap back up to his. “I don’t want you anywhere near Frisk right now.” 

“s’not like i’m gonna bite ‘em.” He chuckles again. 

“Sans, this isn’t funny. I’m seriously pissed off at you. You don’t just fucking bite someone.” 

“then don’t let me do it,” he retorts, losing his good humor. “kid, if you didn’t want it, you woulda fought it. you woulda tried to get away. seein’ how perfect that bite mark is, you didn’t move at all. you wanted it. that makes you just as at fault as i am.” 

You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes. He’s right. You can’t argue with that. It’s not going to stop you from being mad or make you forgive him, but he’s right. If you had moved, he wouldn’t have been able to leave such a perfect mark. 

You had wanted it. 

“That’s beside the point!” You huff, looking away from him again. Take a deep breath. Steady yourself. “It might seem to you like I’m overreacting, but I’m not. I was drunk, of course I wasn’t going to move. My question is, why the hell would you even  _ want _ to bite me?” 

“said it yourself,” he says with a shrug. “wanted to mark you so nobody got any ideas.”

“Do you…” You shiver. “Do you understand how creepy that is, Sans? That’s not a normal thought process.”

“normal for animals,” he tells you. “normal for me. now, if you don’t need me for the kid’s lessons, i gotta get going.” He reaches out and yanks the hoodie back over the mark a bit too roughly. “keep that covered.”

He disappears in the blink of an eye, and you sit to try to steady yourself. Normal for him, huh? It sounded like he was equating himself to an animal. As gross and creepy and weird and almost wrong as it all feels, you can’t help but be a little intrigued. Sans is still a mystery to you, so you can only value every window into his mind that he opens for you, no matter how small… or weird. 

So, you’ve been marked by a skeleton. You figure it could be a lot worse. He could have killed you like he not-so-subtly suggested the first day you met. No, instead he’s done… this. You can’t really complain, either. Some small part of you almost enjoys having the painful reminder of last night. Still, you’re going to stay pissed, and you’re going to continue to give him shit about it so it hopefully doesn’t happen again. It’s a little hard to go to interviews if you’re covered in bruise-colored dental imprints. 

You need to find a new job for the summer. 

Of course, you have yet to get your letter that confirms that you’ll be student teaching again next semester, but it definitely wouldn’t hurt to look. You can’t keep mooching off of Toriel forever, even if she insists she’s more than happy to take care of you. You can’t let her - you’re a grown ass adult and you can take care of yourself. Besides, you would still see them often, and it’s not like you could never come over to keep watch over Frisk. 

Shit, Frisk’s lessons. 

You make sure the hoodie is covering the mark before you rush back into the kitchen. Frisk appears to have both the math and English sections finished, and you haven’t even sat down to explain anything to them. They see you and hold up the social studies lesson. They’ve been waiting for you to come back and explain things to them. You sign an apology and sit down across from them, then start signing out the highlights of the American Civil War. 

Still, your mind wanders. While your hands and eyes are on autopilot, you keep thinking back to everything that’s been happening recently. Papyrus could have died, Sans almost did, you were suddenly thrust into social situations including new people that you weren’t entirely prepared for, Sans “marking” you, all stacked on top of the shitshow that the cult is running. You still have no idea if your father is involved in any way or not. You sure as hell hope he’s not, for his sake and your mother’s. 

Another thing to consider is Spencer. It’s a little odd that Nolan likes him so much and yet you’d never heard of him until you met him yesterday. Nolan isn’t one to accept someone into his friend circle very easily, not even you. When you had first met Kendra in a class the two of you shared, the two of you had hit it off immediately. She decided a few weeks later that you were ready to meet Nolan (or, more likely, Nolan was ready to meet you). He had shunned you, degraded you, tried to get you to leave. He’s known Kendra much longer than you, and with his barrage of questions, he tried to use that fact to his advantage. However, when you miraculously were able to answer everything about her correctly (thank god that Kendra’s interesting to listen to when she starts rambling), he decided to give you a chance. It took a few months for him to trust you, to open up and accept you. Now, you can’t get him to leave you alone. While he’s friendly with your monster friends, he still keeps them at an arm’s distance. Spencer, on the other hand, was immediately allowed to photograph his art, while it took you almost a year to convince Nolan to let you take one measly picture on your phone (of course, by that time, the piece you had wanted the picture of was gone). That all renders him a little suspicious, though that could just be your slightly jealous friend side getting the best of you. Then again, he does seem a little too chipper, too happy. Like it’s forced, or covering some kind of secret. 

Again, jealous friend. Or the cult bullshit is influencing your train of thought.

Frisk shoves the completed social studies work at you for you to check over. They’ve gotten everything right, as they always do, so you smile at them and give them a thumbs up. Their expression fills with pride and they stand, bounding away to do something they’re probably not supposed to be doing. Whatever. You rub your eyes with your hands and take in a long breath, letting it out slowly. Suddenly, the stress of everything is coming down on you. You need a job. You need to do something about your apartment and the fact that you’re still paying to live there when you don’t live there at all anymore. You need to prepare for student teaching next semester, assuming that you get your confirmation letter. It takes a while to process it, you know that, but it’s been a long while since you put in the application. Maybe it’s taking longer because you didn’t turn it in until the day before the deadline? You’re not sure, but the point is, you should be getting the letter any old time now, and then you’ll have to email in to get a tour of the school you’re to be working with and set up a meeting with the teacher whose classroom you’ll be in. 

You wonder briefly if Frisk will end up being your charge again. 

Your thoughts are broken by a tall glass of chocolate milk being all but slammed down on the table in front of you. Frisk scoots into the chair beside you and wraps their arms around your shoulders with a reassuring smile. You flinch at the sudden contact of their elbow to your shoulder, earning you an odd look. You sign your thanks, hoping they’ll ignore your expression. They grin at you and gesture to the milk again. They really are a sweet kid. 

They put way too much chocolate in the milk, though.

To be polite at the very least, you go ahead and drink it. It does make you feel a little bit better, if you’re honest. Or maybe it’s just the child earnestly trying to make you feel better. They pull away from you and pat you on the head, comfortingly at first, but slowly growing more insistent. 

* _ ”You look upset,” _ they sign once they have your full attention.  _ “Is everything okay?” _

You nod and ruffle their hair before responding,  _ “It’s nothing you need to worry about.” _

They pout a little before reaching up to ruffle your hair back. You hear feet coming down the stairs and the door handle of the front door clicking as if someone is starting to turn it. 

“I AM OFF TO WORK NOW, VARIOUSLY SIZED HUMANS,” Papyrus announces. Right. You almost forgot he had spent the night. “I WILL RETURN LATER FOR SANS.” 

“Have a good day,” you call as Frisk bolts away from you. You can hear the impact as they throw themself onto Papyrus. The door opens, and normally you would immediately hear him run through the door with a loud “NYEH!”, but this time, there’s silence. 

“HUMAN, YOU HAVE A VISITOR,” he calls again, tentatively. 

“A visitor?” you mutter to yourself. Who the hell would be showing up on your doorstep unannounced? You’re hoping that it’s not your father again; that didn’t go over so well last time. You make your way over to the front door and gesture for Papyrus to move aside. It’s not at all who you were expecting. In fact, it’s probably who you were  _ least _ expecting. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Kendra greets you, her face lighting up when she sees you. “What’s shakin’?” 

“Kendra,” you breathe, and you can’t deny that you’re a little relieved. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I’d say I tried calling first, but I definitely didn’t,” she admits. “I was in the area, thought I’d drop by.” 

“That was nice of you,” you say. “Come on in. Oh, and Paps? Have a good day at work.” 

The skeleton tenses a little at the mention of his name, but he turns to you and gives you a short salute. “I WILL HAVE AN EXCELLENT DAY! YOU DO THE SAME.” 

“Have a good one, sweetie,” Kendra adds as he goes past her. He freezes again before he all but sprints to his car. 

Kendra steps in, removing her shoes at the door and shutting it behind herself. Frisk gives her a short wave before bounding away again. 

“So full of energy,” she says fondly, adjusting the hem of her shirt. “Kid’s adorable.”

“Yet a handful,” you agree. “What are you really doing here? I know you’re never just ‘in the area’, Ken.” 

“You say that like I’m not welcome here,” she whines. 

You smile at her and lead her further into the house. “As far as I know, you’re always welcome,” you tell her, “unless you’ve done something to seriously offend Toriel and Asgore.” 

“Don’t think so.” She plops down on the couch once you reach the living room, draping her arm across its back. “Anyways, I’m here so you can talk to me. You’re doing a shit job of keeping in contact.”

“That’s pretty much what Nolan told me yesterday,” you say, sitting down next to her. Frisk wanders in and boots up some kind of puzzle game that you can only assume belongs to Papyrus.

“Yesterday?” She echoes. “He did mention picking you up. Did you meet that new guy? Sam or something like that?”

“Spencer,” you correct her, “and yes, I did. We actually exchanged phone numbers.”

“What do you think of him?”

You think for a moment, absently fidgeting with your ring. “He seems like a fairly nice guy, I guess. Not really the type I’d peg as someone Nolan would get along with.”

“Right!” She shakes her head. “Nolan latched on way too quick. He didn’t even open up to  _ you _ that fast.” 

“I was thinking about that earlier, actually.”

“I think it’s because he treats Nolan like a god,” she goes on. “It’s like Spencer is a walking ego boost, and you know how self-conscious Nolan is.”

“He does kind of worship him,” you say. “But I guess as long as Nolan’s happy, there’s not too much to worry about.” 

“I wish I was that optimistic.” She gives you an odd smile and shakes her head. “Oh well. If you think we should trust the new kid for now, I’ll trust him, but only because I trust your judgement.” 

You nod. You don’t think there’s really any reason  _ not _ to trust Spencer. He’s too damn nice, even kind of naive and impressionable if you think back to your first impression of him. Maybe he’ll be good for the headstrong Nolan. Maybe they’ll balance each other out a bit. The more you think about it, the more you can only come up with good outcomes to their newfound friendship. Hell, maybe you’ll even make use of the fact that he gave you his phone number and get to know him yourself. 

Besides, you can’t base your opinion on the situation on Sans’ possessive reaction. You absently rub the part of the jacket over the bruising. It’s sore. 

“Okay, that’s not all I came here for,” Kendra says, breaking your train of thought. “Tell me what’s been going on in your life. How are things going with the skelebabe?”

You can almost feel yourself cringe. “Things have been… interesting.” 

You can see her expression shift as her interest heightens. “Tell me everything.”

“Well, I thought things were looking up. We had a little, uh, death scare with him about a week ago.” You watch her wince, but she holds back her words. “I’ve been pretty much babysitting him during the day since then. He’s been real sweet. Then, yesterday, he came with to meet Spencer and see Nolan’s tag, right? Shit got a little weird after that.”

Kendra looks on expectantly. 

“We got a little drunk last night. He was talking about not liking Spencer, about thinking that he needed to, uh, mark me? So that nobody gets any ideas, because I’m his?” Her expression becomes a mixture of amusement and horror. You take a small breath. “And mark me he did,” you finish quietly.

“And how the  _ fuck _ , if you mind my asking, did he do that?” She sounds more amused than she looks. 

“You have to promise to keep your mouth shut about it. Not a peep to anyone. Not even Nolan.”

“You have my word.”

“He bit me.”

Kendra gives you a wide-eyed look, utterly speechless before she sputters and her hand flies up to cover her mouth and stifle her laughter. “Are you serious?” 

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” You can feel your face heat for the umpteenth time today, though you’re sure this is only the second time it’s been from embarrassment as opposed to anger. 

“No, not really,” she says after taking a couple of deep breaths to calm herself. “Can I see the damage? Is it something I could cover with my superior makeup skills?”

“I don’t think it is,” you admit, looking over to Frisk to ensure they’re still distracted (thankfully, they’re still hyper-focused on the TV screen) before you slide the hoodie down your shoulder enough for her to see. 

She leans in close, pressing her finger to it lightly and quickly withdrawing when a pained hiss escapes you. “Dude, what the fuck,” she whispers. “This thing is awful.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think this could ever be covered.”

“I don’t think so either.”

“So that’s why you’ve got the hoodie on even though it’s a billion degrees outside today?”

“That would be the reason,” you say. “I have to keep it covered. I’m thinking about asking Papyrus to heal it, but he would yell at Sans about it and I’ve already tried to do that today.”

“What about Toriel? Does she do the monster magic healing thing?” 

“Yes, but that’s a conversation I think I want to avoid having with her,” you say. “She’s like a mom that constantly looks for things to use to embarrass you.”

“You could force her to swear to secrecy,” she suggests. 

“That wouldn’t stop her from being all amused about it,” you tell her. 

“Just like it’s not going to stop me from being all amused about it,” she teases, nudging you. “I mean, thanks for trusting me with this, but that’s golden.”

“I’m glad my misfortune amuses you so,” you grumble. “It’ll fade eventually, right? Eventually it’ll be light enough that I can cover it with makeup until it heals, right?”

“Yeah, that’s true.” She grins and settles back in her seat. “Okay, so we’ve covered Spencer and skeleton bites caused by Spencer’s very existence. Is there anything else you think you should let me in on?”

“Not really,” you say after a short moment of thought. “I just need to find a job and figure out what’s going on with my apartment.”

“Were the locks ever replaced?”

“They’ve been replaced for a while,” you admit. “Every time I mention moving back in, Toriel gives me another excuse to stay. All I’m really here for now is to watch Frisk during the day and take care of their lessons until school is over.”

“The way I see it is either you can move back in, or you can move all of your stuff out of there,” she says. “Maybe talk to Toriel about it? And don’t let her guilt you into staying if you want to leave?” 

“I’m gonna have to talk to her about it,” you agree. “She’ll probably want me to move all of my stuff out of there and stay here longer.”

“If that’s what she thinks is best, maybe it is.” 

“Kendra, I can take care of myself, I don’t need her to do it.”

“Yeah, but she’s going to whether you want it or not,” she says, standing. “If that’s it, I should get going--”

“You haven’t updated me on your life,” you cut in, touching her arm to stop her from walking away. “What’s going on? I know you’re much more exciting than I am.”

“Oh, please, my life isn’t filled with hot monsters,” she says dismissively. “I’ve been working, going to school, the usual bullshit. Nothing new there. Still going into business, still regretting every decision I make, still making the best of it.”

“And you say I’m optimistic,” you tease. 

She gives you a look somewhere between a smile and a grimace before breaking into a real grin. “I really do need to get going, though,” she repeats. “I have to get back to my mom’s before she realizes I’m late.”

Oh, that’s right. Kendra’s mom lives somewhere in this area. You kick yourself mentally for forgetting. You’ve been over there enough times since the two of you met that you may as well have your own key. 

Then again, you haven’t been there too often in the past few months, if at all.

“You really were just in the area,” you say a bit sheepishly. 

She taps your shoulder with her fist. “Good talk. We’re going to have to get together with Nolan again soon, just the three of us, give us a chance to really talk.”

You nod your agreement. 

“And good luck with the thing,” she goes on, tapping her own shoulder. You glare at her. 

“Thanks,” you say anyways, standing as well. She starts toward the front door, and you follow. She stoops to pull her shoes onto her feet. When she straightens back up, she pulls you into a tight embrace. 

“Don’t be a stranger,” she says, pulling away and holding you at arm’s length. You give her a small smile, and without any further words shared, she whisks away through the door. 

A stranger. You make a mental note to take up actually making an effort to talk to your friends again. You know that you’ve been fairly distant since you started hanging around Frisk’s monster family. Hopefully Nolan and Kendra haven’t been feeling as if they’re being replaced. You wouldn’t do that to them. Things have just been sort of crazy lately.

You snort at yourself. That’s an understatement. Things have been  _ way _ crazy lately.

You fetch Frisk’s schoolwork from the kitchen table and head upstairs to file the papers away. It almost amazes you how quickly they can gain an understanding of the material and complete the work. What takes an entire school day for regular students to cover takes mere hours for Frisk. Maybe it’s the one-on-one attention? There’s no other students for them to wait for, so they can truly work at their own pace, even if it does feel sort of rushed. Still, it’s impressive.

You reshelve the binders, having gotten everything sorted, and take a second to breathe. The school year’s almost over, and you won’t have to be Frisk’s live-in tutor anymore. Toriel said that she’ll be able to be home during the day over the summer, so you wouldn’t have to babysit them all day, either. Besides, if you moved out, the kid could always just come to your place if you had to watch them. Sans and Papyrus usually take them for the weekends, too, so that’s not too big of a deal. 

Oh, weekends. That reminds you. You look at the wall calendar above Asgore’s desk. It’s Friday, your designated anime night with Alphys and Undyne. 

Duh. How could you forget?

You squint at the idea of sitting through Undyne’s inevitable barrage of questions and teasing, especially since odds are they’ll stick you next to Sans, assuming he’ll show up. You still have quite a bit of time to plan your defense and how you’re going to cover the bruise without looking too out of character. They’ll expect you there at seven, which gives you until about six-thirty to get things figured out. You look at the clock. That’s about six hours to kill and plan for. 

For now, you need food, and Frisk is probably going to want something as well. You don’t think you even got any coffee in you this morning. No, you’re pretty sure you didn’t, seeing as how you’re not entirely awake. You’ve only had that chocolate milk Frisk made up for you. You take your time going back downstairs and move into the kitchen, finding Frisk raiding the fridge as you guessed they might be. You reach around them and pluck out a package of bagels and leftover pizza sauce from a few nights ago. You hold them up and arch an eyebrow at Frisk, silently asking if they’re interested. They pull cheese and an assorted armful of other foods that could pass as toppings and grin at you.

Bagel pizzas it is. 

You let them sort through the things they grabbed while you split up bagels and spread sauce over each open half. You turn to preheat the oven and look back to see Flowey glaring at you from the kitchen table. Right, he’d probably want one. Sometimes you forget he’s actually a monster and not just a talking, hissing, awfully rude houseplant. You split another bagel and load as much meat onto it as you can. The only thing more odd than his tendency to hiss at everyone like a frightened cat is his mainly carnivorous eating habits. 

Then again, maybe he feels weird about eating other plants. Even if he’s a monster, would that be considered cannibalism? You shake your head at the thought and move on to helping Frisk put an odd assortment of toppings on their own bagel, including several vegetables that you didn’t think you’d ever see them eat. They reach into the bagel package to split another one, and when you give them a questioning glance, they point to the opening to the living room. 

You were hoping you wouldn’t have to see him until after you had calmed down a bit more.

“uh, hey,” he greets you, coming in a little further. “asgore wouldn’t let me work, said i had to stay here.”

“You’re not normally one to listen to him,” you say. 

“it’s for tori’s peace of mind,” he tells you, climbing up onto one of the barstools on the other side of the island. “hope you don’t mind babysitting me a little longer.” 

He rests his jaw in his palm, giving you a slow wink. He’s back in a good humor, and you’re actually glad that he is. It’ll be easier to stay mad at him if he’s not bringing logic into the situation. You can’t afford to let him off easy on this one. 

“I mind a little bit,” you tell him, dropping a few pieces of meat to your yowling vulture of a cat twining himself around your ankles. He feigns a hurt look. You turn and put the completed bagel pizzas into the oven, setting the timer for ten minutes. “But I suppose I’ll have to deal with it, for Toriel’s sake.”

He brightens a little bit, but you keep your gaze level and hopefully a little less than friendly. 

“looks like somebody got  _ bit _ by the bad mood bug,” he drawls, his grin widening as your glare hardens. 

“Sans,” you warn. 

“it’s like a  _ bruise _ on a perfectly good day.”

“Sans,” you say, a little more sternly. He sniggers and inhales like he’s going to say something else, but Frisk swoops in to save your sanity. 

* _ ”Is there really a bad mood bug?” _ they sign, looking earnestly concerned. Sans turns his attention to them while they give you a thumbs up behind the island where he can’t see. 

You hope that they didn’t turn to see the bite mark when Kendra was investigating. You really hope this is just them looking out for you in their weird, child-like way. 

“oh, kid, you have no idea. i think she’s got one stuck in her,” he says, gesturing to you. “she’s all grumpy.”

“I have good reason to be grumpy,” you argue. 

He just winks at you again.

Frisk starts signing all sorts of questions, ranging from what it looks like to really technical things about how a bug bite can force someone into a bad mood. You can see Sans start to panic a little bit while he tries to make things up that sound convincing. Frisk starts pointing out holes in his explanations, and he cracks, putting his head down onto the top of the island and dissolving into a fit of nearly-silent laughter.

The timer goes off, and you don your oven mitt to remove the tray from the oven. You push Frisk away lightly when they try to jump up to get to their food, and you point to the table. They hang their head and dramatically march over to take their seat, pulling Flowey closer to them when they do. You take plates down from the cabinet and start putting the food onto them. You carefully balance your plate on your forearm and take Frisk’s with your hand, and you drop Sans’ in front of him as you walk past him. You take your plate off of your arm for safekeeping and join the child at the table. You pick up one of Flowey’s bagels and hold it up for him. He snatches it from your hand and places it carefully on the very edge of his pot, but you swear you can hear him mumble his thanks before savagely devouring his food. Frisk eats in much of the same manner, grinning at you with sauce lining their mouth. They think they’re being funny. You can’t help but smile as you hand them a napkin from the middle of the table. 

Sans sits across from you, giving you an odd look. You look pointedly away from him as you start to eat. You put too much sauce on it, you realize, but it’s still good. Frisk takes Flowey’s other half off of your plate and puts it in his mouth. Once the flower has scarfed that food as well, they scoop him up and bolt away and up the stairs. 

It’s just you and the skeleton.

“Bad mood bug?” you mumble. “Is that the best you could come up with?”

“hard to come up with biting puns,” he admits. “never had to before, not really.”

“Well, Sans, it’s not appreciated,” you tell him. “I already have to figure out how I’m going to avoid telling Undyne about it. It won’t help if you’re sitting there making biting and bruise puns.”

He thinks for a moment. “anime night is tonight?”

You nod. “Do I get to deal with this by myself, or are you gracing us with your presence?”

“can you drop the attitude?” he snaps. “papyrus will make me go. you might want to get over yourself a little before they make us sit together.”

You stare at him, bewildered. You really have no words to respond to that.

“we’ll tell her that i fell asleep pretty early. it’s not a lie.”

You nod slowly, thinking. It’s not too out of character, and it is technically the truth. Just not all of it. 

“Yeah, that’ll work,” you murmur.

“it will,” he assures you, poking at his bagel. “you thinkin’ about findin’ someone to heal that?”

You narrow your eyes at him and shrug. “I dunno, was thinking about asking your brother.”  It’s his turn to glare at you. “don’t bring paps into this,” he growls. “he don’t need to know what happened.”

You don’t say anything, but you take the empty plates from the table and walk them to the sink, rinsing the sauce from them and deciding it’s probably best to just go ahead and get them washed. It’ll save you the trouble of remembering to do it later, before Toriel gets home. A loud crash in the sink makes you jump, seeing as you were focused on making sure everything was spotless, and you look over to see a still-bitter Sans. He doesn’t say anything to you, just shoves his hands in his hoodie pockets and stays near your side. You prickle a little, washing off his plate and setting it in the drying rack before shutting off the water and drying your hands on the towel hanging from the sink cabinet handle. When you turn to face him, you find a hand on either side of you, braced against the counter, effectively keeping you in place.

“keep my brother outta this,” he repeats, letting his teeth get awfully close to your ear. “just... keep it covered. i don’t think you wanna face the embarrassment of askin’ someone to clean up my mess.”

“This would be much easier if you knew healing magic,” you tell him, doing your best to edge away from him in the limited space he’s allowing you.

“don’t think i’d do it even if i could,” he admits quietly. He’s too close. You can feel him graze parted teeth along the side of your neck, and you freeze. “kinda like seein’ it on you.”

That’s… a red flag. You put your palm flat on his chest, giving him yet another glare as he backs away with an amused glint in his eye sockets. He looks awfully smug. He removes his hands from the counter and puts them back in his pockets. 

“did i scare you?” he asks, his tone back to its normal easy going lilt. 

You feel your rage building deep within you, but there’s some kind of block on it. You should be blowing up at him, and he would deserve to get yelled at. Something’s telling you that he just wants a reaction, though, and you’re not going to give it to him. Instead, you sidestep to get away from him and walk away, heading towards the stairs. Hopefully he has the sense to leave you alone if you keep Frisk close to your side. You can hear him chuckle as you take the steps two at a time.

You push their door open slowly so that you suddenly being in their room won’t scare them, and they seem excited to see you. Flowey gives you an odd look as you adjust the hoodie one more time and smile at them.

_ “Mind if I hang out up here for a while?” _ you sign. 

“I’d mind,” Flowey hisses, but drops his glare when Frisk flicks one of his petals. 

* _ ”We can play dinosaurs,” _ they sign to you, gesturing to a rather large plastic bin filled to overflowing with dinosaur figures of varying sizes. Frisk digs out a T-Rex the size of their forearm and a small, very obviously herbivorous dinosaur that you could close your fist around comfortably. They hand the small one to you with a wicked grin.

You already know you’re going to have to win. 

They end up making you choose which dinosaurs you would like to have form a clan of sorts, and they give you paper and a crayon and ask you to name them all and give them all roles in your clan. Surprisingly, they give you an array of sizes and types of dinosaurs instead of building up a strong team for themself as you would have expected any other third-grader to do. They give you pointers on who would fit certain roles and tell you that the clans are at war and the leaders have to be convinced that there’s a diplomatic solution that can be reached. You’re more than a little more surprised at that, but then again, this is the kid that used diplomacy to free the entire Underground.

They have a hard time being violent in video games too, you’ve noticed.

Flowey whispers advice to them and hisses at you when you give him knowing looks. He’s trying to convince Frisk’s dinosaurs to go down a slightly more hectic path, but they keep shutting him down. The flower looks a little frustrated and falls silent after a while, asking you quietly to move him into the sunbeam filtering in through the window. He seems content after that. 

The two of you reach a compromise fairly quickly - their dinosaurs had too much plant life while yours didn’t have enough, and your territory had all of the fresh water while theirs had very little. Once a trade treaty is drawn up, Frisk decides they’re done and starts packing up dinosaurs. They make you stand and settle on your side on their bed while they put a VHS into the player built into their small box TV. You barely register that it’s Toy Story before you realize that you’re tired. 

The next thing you know, Frisk is shaking you awake, holding up your phone. It’s got a call going. You take it and press it to your ear. 

“Yeah?” You barely remember to make sure that the hoodie is in place as you sit up. 

You regret putting the phone close to your ear almost immediately. 

_ “ERGH, about time! Frisk has been trying to wake you up for, like, a minute.” _

You wince. “Hi, Undyne,” you greet her. “What’s up?”

_ “Try the fact that you’re about to be late for anime night! Do you even know what time it is?” _

“Can’t say that I do.” You balance the phone between your face and shoulder and tap the top of your wrist, asking Frisk for the time. They hold up their own phone. It’s six-thirty. If you don’t leave within the next ten minutes, you’ll be late, and Undyne will never let you hear the end of it.

_ “Sans and Papyrus are already here. Get your ass moving and get over here!” _

She hangs up without so much as a goodbye, and you put your phone in your hoodie pocket. At least she was straight and to the point this time, no guesswork needed on your part. You heave a sigh and lift yourself up off of the child’s bed. You’ll have to make sure you put something on that will keep the bruising covered without having to adjust it constantly, so that you won’t have to worry about it all night. 

You move around Frisk, patting their head as you go, and make your way into your room. Opening your closet, you decide to settle for a pullover hoodie instead of your current zip-up, seeing as how you won’t have to worry about it falling off of your shoulders. You look in the mirror after swapping your jackets and give yourself a quick inspection. You don’t look too terrible. A little tired, which isn’t too far from the truth. You can’t see any traces of the bruise, so you let yourself relax a little bit. 

Maybe you should ask Toriel to heal it, like Kendra suggested. She would keep it a secret if you asked her nicely enough, or at least, you hope she would. She’ll more than likely tease you about indefinitely, but you think you can deal with that. It would be nice to not have to plan your wardrobe around keeping things hidden. You narrow your eyes at your reflection and decide that you’re ready to go. If you don’t leave within the next few seconds, you’re sure you’ll get another “motivational” call from Undyne, and each is a bit harsher than the last. 

You sling your bag over your shoulder, making sure to grab your phone from your bed where you threw it when you started changing. At the bottom of the stairs, you find Toriel and Asgore, the former holding a wriggling Frisk tightly in her arms. 

“They think that they are going with you,” she informs you. “I told them that they will only be bored. Is that not true?” 

She gives you a rather exaggerated wink when Frisk turns away from her to pout at you. You nod slowly, signing as you speak so that Frisk can understand.

“It’s super boring,” you tell them. Toriel gives you an approving nod, and Frisk signs out that you’re a liar just like their mom.

Somehow, you feel a little bad. 

“We will see you when you come home,” Asgore says, patting your shoulder with a large, heavy paw, making you stagger just a little. You smile up at him.

“I won’t be too late,” you promise, and Toriel nods again. You wave to Frisk, who reluctantly returns the gesture, before heading out the door and letting yourself into your car.

Sit for a second. Rest your forehead against the steering wheel. Breathe. 

You’re not sure that you’re prepared to sit with Sans again, but as long as he doesn’t decide that he wants to do something particularly creepy and keeps his hands to himself, you think you’ll be fine. Besides, it doesn’t seem like him to do anything overtly weird if there’s other people in the room. He’s a little too secretive for that, if nothing else.

You lift your head and put the key into the ignition, giving it a twist that makes the vehicle roar to life. It’s probably time to take it in for a tune-up by now, you think. Hopefully you’ll remember. 

You don’t turn the radio up as loud as you normally would. Instead, you crack open the windows and barely even hum along when a song that you know comes on. You’re nervous about Undyne. There’s always a chance that she’ll be relentless in her questioning about last night, and you’re also nervous that the fairly significant height difference between the two of you will somehow make it so that she can see the bruising. You don’t think that you could handle her teasing right now, especially not with Sans being weird and everything else deciding to pile on now. 

You need a break, you think. Just… a break away from people. That would be nice.

Or a break where you see people that you don’t normally see. 

That would also be nice.

You park in front of their townhouse and let yourself in. It’s still a little weird for you to do that, but they keep insisting. You just hope that no one ever looks over and thinks that you’re breaking and entering. Inside, as promised, is Undyne, Papyrus, and Sans. The fish monster scoops you into a rib-crushing hug that lifts you off of the ground, and she spins you around a couple of times. 

“I KNEW you wouldn’t be late!” she exclaims. “You’re so punctual. Jeez. Nerd.” 

“Uh, yeah,” you say, taking a second to catch your breath when she all but drops you. “Thanks for calling, though. I would have slept right through tonight if you hadn’t.” 

“Tired, huh?” she comments, giving you a sly look. “You must have stayed up pretty late last night, huh? You must have been busy.”

You arch an eyebrow at her. “Not really. There’s just been a lot going on.” 

“I’LL GO GET DRINKS,” Papyrus announces, disappearing into the kitchen. 

Undyne’s grin can only grow as it usually does as she shifts her eyes between you and Sans, who is already sunken into his usual spot on the loveseat with a bottle of ketchup in hand. He looks at the two of you, seemingly amused. 

“So what happened last night?” she asks, rushing a little.

You open your mouth to speak, but Sans cuts you off. “we drank a little, watched some comedy show, went to bed. was a nice, quiet night.”

Undyne looks to you. You nod, silently willing her to believe his words. 

“He fell asleep pretty early, actually,” you add, surprised that your voice is level and convincing. “He didn’t make it through the entire show. I went to bed once it was over.”

“BORING,” she sighs, making her exasperation painfully obvious to you. “You guys were supposed to have FUN, maybe move a little faster than you have been. I’m sick of watching you circle around each other and not making any moves.” 

“is that really any of your business?” Sans asks, and you genuinely can’t tell if he’s upset or not; he has the same carefree, relaxed expression and tone of voice that he did a moment ago. 

“You’re my friends,” Undyne replies. “That makes it my business, at least a little.”

“i wouldn’t worry too much if i were you,” Sans advises her. “we’ll move at my own pace, won’t we?” 

His gaze moves to you, and you lock eyes with him before lowering your eyes to your feet and nodding. You make it look like you’re busy removing your shoes so that you can sit down. 

“Where’s Alphys?” you ask, suddenly a bit desperate to change the subject. 

“She’s gonna be a little late,” Undyne tells you. “She’s been working really late lately, trying to get as much done as she can before she crashes. I asked her to try to be a little earlier tonight, though.” 

You hum. “I hope she’s doing okay. I haven’t heard too much from her in a while.” 

“DRINKS,” Papyrus says, appearing in the doorway connecting the living room and kitchen. “ALSO, HELLO, HUMAN. I DID NOT GREET YOU PROPERLY.”

“Hi, Paps,” you greet him with a small smile, standing again and dropping your bag by the couch you’ll be sitting on as the taller skeleton hands his brother another bottle of ketchup. You receive a glass of wine, which seems to be becoming the norm when you’re over here, then he settles on the currently empty couch. You take your seat next to Sans, eyeing him suspiciously, and Undyne launches herself over the back of the other one to slam down into her seat next to Papyrus. She grins at you before picking up the remote and turning on the TV. 

“We’ve already got it set up,” she informs you. “We had all sorts of time while waiting for your slow ass.” 

You check the phone on your time. “Excuse you,” you retort, “but I’m early.” 

“You wouldn’t be if I hadn’t called you,” she teases. You grin back at her and take a sip of your wine. It’s kind of dry, more so than you’d like it to be. You try not to make a face at it and turn your attention to the screen. It appears to be some sort of magical girl anime. Again. Not that you mind. 

“Well, thanks,” you say after a moment, and whatever Undyne is about to say is cut off by Papyrus shutting off the lights and the anime’s opening blaring through surround sound speakers. 

It’s not hard to stay focused on the show you’re watching - it’s actually interesting, hosting a storyline you can get behind underneath the bright colors and moe characters. For once, your mind isn’t filled with thoughts of Sans, you realize, and it’s almost nice. You don’t feel the need to think about what he did, how you feel about it, the fact that Undyne could find out at any moment with her uncanny ability to sense embarrassing things, the fact that Sans is right next to you and he’s  _ so warm _ and you’d really like to take off your hoodie but you can’t risk doing that, not when you only have a tanktop underneath it. 

So much for not having Sans in your thoughts. 

Your internal fretting is interrupted by the front door swinging open about two episodes into the anime. In rushes a very disheveled Alphys, panting and shaking and overall looking like her normal nervous self. She shuts the door slowly, clicking it shut quietly, as Undyne pauses the show and stands to meet her with hushed greetings and a kiss to the smaller monster’s forehead. 

“S-sorry I’m late,” she breathes, shedding her lab coat and settling herself into her usual spot on the couch. “D-did you guys a-already get started?” 

“We’re two episodes in,” you tell her. “It’s really interesting. I wouldn’t mind starting it over if you haven’t seen it yet.”

“I-I’ve seen this one b-before,” she assures you with a shaky smile. “N-no worries.” 

“you’ve been busy with work,” Sans observes, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. He’s scooted a little closer, you think. Either that, or you’re still overreacting. 

Alphys nods slowly, keeping her hands laced together in her lap. “Y-yes, I h-have been,” she says. “There’s a-a lot of w-work to be done.”

“Are you redoing those notes that were stolen?” you ask gently. Ever since that happened, you’ve seen less and less of her.

She nods again, but stays silent for a moment longer than you would normally expect from her. “Y-yes,” she murmurs. “I-it’s been a hassle, t-trying t-to duplicate results w-without my notes. I-it’s like I-I’m starting from s-scratch.”

“I thought Mettaton backed up some of your nerd notes in his nerd drive last time he was here,” Undyne cuts in, joining Alphys on the couch. “Maybe you can get them when he comes to visit.”

Alphys slouches a little bit, looking slightly relieved. Undyne must be right about Mettaton backing up some of the notes just in case. You’re a little more interested in Papyrus’ reaction to the mention of the ridiculously famous robot, though. He tenses, straightens his back, and looks a little nervous. You can feel Sans’ discomfort without even having to look at the shorter skeleton.

“didn’t know mettaton was comin’ to town,” he says, his voice just barely more stiff than normal. 

“You didn’t hear?” Undyne barks out a laugh. “That tin can wants to come pay homage to his ‘humble beginnings’ or whatever. He’s staying with us for the weekend.”

“if he wants to go back to his humble beginnings, turn him back into a scrap heap,” Sans grumbles, barely audible. You’re pretty sure you’re the only one who heard him.

You, on the other hand, are honestly a little excited. You’ve only met Mettaton once, and you have a lot you want to ask him (on your mother’s behalf, of course; you promised her that you’d try to get some answers). He seemed pretty friendly and interesting. You hope that you can talk to him comfortably for a bit, obviously without having to break into an elementary school. 

“FRISK WILL WANT TO SEE HIM,” Papyrus squeaks in a tone that makes it seem like he’s trying to sound like he’s thinking out loud. He keeps nervously flicking his between his hands, which are folded in his lap in a similar fashion to Alphys’, and his older brother. “THEY WILL BE UNDER OUR CARE, SANS, SO WE WILL HAVE TO BE THE ONES TO BRING THEM TO VISIT.”

Sans snorts.

“OH! OR, SINCE I WAS PLANNING ON INVITING OUR NEWEST HUMAN FRIEND TO COOK AND BAKE WITH ME TOMORROW SO THAT I CAN GIVE HER SOME MUCH-NEEDED POINTERS, PERHAPS METTATON CAN COME AS WELL.”

He gives you an expectant, longing look that you know that he knows that you can’t say no to. You sigh and nod. 

“Yeah, I’ll be there tomorrow,” you affirm. “It’d be nice to see Mettaton again.”

Sans snorts again, but this time, you know it’s directed at you. 

“whatever, that’s fine,” he grumbles. “if mettaton wants to come over, he can come over.”

“I’ll bring Frisk over with me when I come, then,” you say, honestly a little proud that you’re contributing to Sans’ discomfort. 

“ERGH, we can talk about the perks of seeing Mettaton later,” Undyne says. “We have an anime to watch!”

 

And watch you do. 

Before you know it, it’s too late for you to think, it’s probably a little dangerous for you to be driving with how tired you are and how much wine is in your system, but you make it back to Toriel’s in one unharmed piece and you flop face-down onto your mattress, suddenly appreciative of how soft the quilt you use is. 

Then, morning.

You sit up and stretch, looking in the mirror across the room and seeing that you never changed into pajamas last night. No wonder it’s warm in here. You tug the hood of your hoodie aside, noting the barely darker color of the bruise, and sigh. You’ll have to deal with this again today. You may as well get used to it - unless you decide to go ahead and ask Toriel to heal it for you, this thing is going to be sticking around for at least a couple of weeks. It’s hardly been a full day since you’ve had to start covering it. Bitter, you change your underwear and pants and decide that it’s good enough. 

Though you’re more than likely seeing Mettaton today. You should look cute, regardless of how much baking you’ll be doing, simply to avoid the makeover he crudely promised the first time you met. 

You pull the hoodie off over your head and fish in your closet for a red cardigan and a floral scarf. Even with it looped around your neck, you’re infinitely cooler than you were with the hoodie. The mirror tells you that your outfit doesn’t seem nearly as suspicious as the hoodie did, and your relief increases. You head off into the bathroom to take care of your morning hygiene ritual, sans the shower. 

Downstairs, you find a very excited Frisk signing frantically at Toriel, who is on the phone. 

“Now, now, calm down, my child,” she says. “Once she comes downstairs, we will ask her to take you right over.” She looks up, her gaze settling comfortably on you, and her amused smile shifts into a pleasantly pleased one. “Ah, there she is. Good morning, though it is a little closer to afternoon now.” You look at the clock. Nearly noon. You need to break your late-night-later-morning habit. “How soon were you planning on leaving to take Frisk to Sans and Papyrus’? There is a surprise visitor there for them, and they are very excited to see who it is.” 

“I’m excited to see who it is,” you say. “I’ll take them over as soon as I’ve had my coffee.” 

“It should still be hot,” she tells you. You wander into the kitchen, maybe a bit too quickly, and you miss hearing whatever she says after to that. You’re not sure if it was directed at you or whoever was on the phone (who you can only assume could be Sans, Papyrus, or Mettaton), but it doesn’t really matter, not when there’s half a pot of dark roast ambrosia waiting for you on the counter. You pour some into a mug, killing it with your creamer and leaning against the counter in your enjoyment. Somehow coffee tastes better when you’re not pissed off about skeletons biting your shoulder.

The coffee suddenly becomes bitter. 

You inhale through your nose and try again. You  _ will _ enjoy today. It’ll be filled with peaceful baking, cooking, and talking with Papyrus and, from the sound of it, Mettaton. If you’re lucky, Sans won’t be there, and if he is, you can revel in his discomfort.

That’s no way to think of your friends. 

You spend a split second feeling bad for wanting Sans to be uncomfortable before you’re over it. Today will be fun. Today will hopefully be drama free. You’d like to be able to say that it will be, with absolute certainty, a good day, but you never can. Not recently. 

You finish off your coffee and place the mug in the sink, briefly rinsing it so Toriel won’t have to “sternly ask” for you to remember next time. You find your bag hanging on one of the kitchen chairs on your way back out. You fish your keys from it and sling it over your shoulder. You must have just dropped it at the door last night, prompting someone to pick it up for you. Probably Toriel.

“Is Frisk ready?” you call out before actually walking out into the foyer. Frisk has Flowey in their hands and a backpack on their back, as well as a large grin on their face. You wonder if Toriel caved and told them who their surprise visitor is. You grin at them and hold up your keys. 

“Be careful, you two,” Toriel says. “And Frisk, please be sure to keep in contact with me this weekend. I want to be sure that you are safe.”

Frisk lets out an exasperated groan and nods. They turn their attention back to you and start towards the front door, not waiting for you to slip your feet into your flats.

“Everything will be fine,” you assure Toriel, who just smiles and gives you an appreciative look. She knows perfectly well that everything will be fine, and you know that, but you still think it helps to give her some reassurance once in a while. She frets awfully often.

You follow the child through the now open door and watch them carefully situate their belongings in the back seat before moving up to the front. You arch an eyebrow at them, and they signal with one hand that they’re tall enough. You’re not sure you believe them, but you sigh and decide to make an exception for just this one time. They grin at you when you don’t stop them and all but slam your door shut. You wince.

You make sure to turn your radio’s volume way down when you start your car, though you know it doesn’t make any difference to Frisk what volume it’s at. They can’t hear it anyhow. You ensure one more time that they’re buckled in and that they have a firm grip on Flowey’s pot (he promptly complains about your taste in music, so you turn the radio back up a bit) before you pull out from in front of the house and head off to Sans and Papyrus’ apartment. 

Once you’re there, staring at their door, Frisk wastes no time letting themself in and immediately squealing. You make sure to take off your shoes at the door and close it behind you before venturing further in, inspecting the kitchen for what Frisk is audibly excited about. You drop your purse next to the unsurprisingly Sans-less couch as you peek into Papyrus’ favorite room.

You expected this, but you’re honestly still a little starstruck, seeing Mettaton in his shiny pink and black and silver glory. He turns his gaze to you, his hands resting on his hips, a smirk resting on metal lips. He radiates sass.

“Oh, darling, it’s been awhile, hasn’t it?” he coos, taking a few strides over to cup your face in his palm. Surprisingly, it’s warm. “It’s so good to see you again.”

“Hi, Mettaton,” you say. Somehow, your voice is still steady. Thank the universe.

“I am  _ so _ glad you’re here. Papyrus here was just telling me that you’re in need of some cooking tips.” You narrow your eyes a little bit. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll have you know that I hosted the premier cooking show in the Underground, and my new, surface-based one has been a smash hit so far as well!” His eye glints - actually glints! - with pride as he steps back to observe the awe he must be assuming will be on your face. 

You manage a smile. You can see how Sans would get sick of him easily, but really, you just think he’s sweet. “Thank you,” you say. “I’m really looking forward to this.”

“Come on, then, no time to waste. We have some baking to start while Papyrus prepares lunch,” he tells you. You follow him further into the kitchen, which feels much smaller than it really is with three adults and one child inside, but it’s not too bad. Mettaton hands you a few ingredients and vaguely tells you what he wants you to do with them. You can guess, based on his sparse directions, that you’re making cookies. Cookies are something you can do. 

“HELLO, HUMAN,” Papyrus greets you. “I AM MAKING A NEW KIND OF SPAGHETTI FOR LUNCH. METTATON TOLD ME HOW TO MAKE IT.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great,” you say with a smile, carefully mixing together your ingredients.

The kitchen fills with idle banter as the oven preheats and Mettaton keeps an obsessively watchful eye over everything. Papyrus is showered with praise constantly, even if he’s doing something in a bit of an uncommon fashion. The skeleton is only spurred on by this, and it seems like he’s becoming more prideful every time Mettaton gives you (completely unnecessary) tip on how to improve your cookie mixing skills, though you think that the robot knows very well that you don’t even help. Honestly, you think it might have to do with the praise he’s receiving in return from Papyrus each time he gives you what sounds like a particularly useful tip. He micromanages you right down to how you position the cookie sheet in the oven, and once you close the door and take a step back, you see just how fondly Papyrus is looking at him. 

No wonder Sans doesn’t like Mettaton. 

You arch an eyebrow at the two of them and look over at Frisk, who has wandered a little further into the living room. They pick up their backpack and gather Flowey from the coffee table and head towards Papyrus’ room, presumably to put their stuff away. You do your best to ignore the soft chatter happening between the tall skeleton and his robot friend...

...which is not entirely hard to do when magic bursts with hardly any buildup and Sans appears, disheveled and nervous, much like Alphys the night before. His eye sockets are dark, barely lit by the unusually tiny white pinpricks within them, a sweat beading across his brow, and he completely ignores you and Mettaton and Papyrus. Instead, he throws himself into the act of tearing open the drawer of a file cabinet and frantically looking through it, mumbling to himself the entire time. 

This gets his brother’s attention. Fidgeting with his hands, Papyrus steps over into an arm’s reach of Sans and clears his nonexistent throat. His brother makes no response.

“SANS,” he says, using his loud voice to his advantage, pressing the tips of his bony fingers to the smaller skeleton’s shoulder. Sans flinches at the touch, ceasing all movement. 

There’s a long moment of silence.

“WHAT IS WRONG?” 

Mettaton leans against the wall, pulling you a little closer to him, gently letting the two of them close off into their own world. 

“they’re gone, paps,” he whispers, barely audible to you. 

Papyrus crouches next to him, bringing his voice down to a much quieter, soothing tone. “What is missing?”

Sans takes in a shaky breath. “...my notes,” he says slowly. “an’ his blueprints. stars, paps, his blueprints are gone. if he were here, he’d kill me.” 

“Whose blueprints?” Papyrus prods, putting himself into a fully seated position, rubbing Sans’ back lightly. 

“his.” Sans pulls something from the file in the very back, small and dusty and impossible for you to see with the brothers blocking your view. 

With the way Papyrus tenses up, though, you’re a little scared to find out who it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eventually I'll stop promising release dates that I won't meet.  
> No, I'm not dead. I know I haven't been answering asks on Tumblr either, but I really don't have much time to do anything right now - it's a crazy point in the semester and school definitely comes before fanfiction and Tumblr. Thank you, as always, for your patience. You crazy people.  
> I really like writing crazy long chapters. You guys might be able to get used to this.  
> Also, I believe that with this chapter, we've officially broken 100k words. Cool shit! Thanks for continuing to read letters that I group and then string together in an order that makes sense to you!  
> [The good ol' Tumbly](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com) is an excellent resource for all of your thesis papers and dissertations on the Sin Train.


	26. Chicken Alfredo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the alternate title is "Mettaton, no."

Maybe if you knew who they were talking about, you would be able to react properly. 

Papyrus, though, seems to be just as confused as you are, but he still pulls his brother in close. For a moment, Sans doesn’t fight it. He just lays limp against his brother’s chest, but after a few ticks on the wall clock, he pulls away rather violently.

“i need to find them,” he says, but his words don’t seem to be directed at anyone in particular. 

“Brother,” Papyrus says gently, “perhaps you should take a few moments to calm down--”

“calm down?” Sans turns completely blackened eye sockets on his brother, his expression a mix of horror and intense anger. “pap, i can’t just-- you don’t-- fuck, bro, it don’t work like that!” 

You can see small sparks of blue come to life in his left socket as his voice climbs in volume. He’s definitely angry, but you don’t think it’s at Papyrus. That would be something terrifying to behold. You trust in Papyrus’ still-relaxed posture, knowing that he would likely tense up at the very least if he knew Sans was truly mad at him. You feel Mettaton lean close to your ear.

“Would you go get the cookies from the oven, dear? My timer will be going off in a moment,” he whispers. It’s almost hard to understand him over the quiet whirs of his inner workings. Still, you nod slowly and edge off into the kitchen. 

You slip your hand into the oven mitt Papyrus had left on the counter and look at the timer above the stove. Mettaton was right - there’s about ten seconds until it goes off. You shut it off before it can beep at you and open the oven, the rush of hot air stinging your cheeks a little as you peer inside. Yup, definitely done. You pull the cookie sheet out and rest it on top of the stove. They’ll have to rest for a minute or two before you can transfer them to the cooling rack Mettaton set out earlier. 

You hear Papyrus murmur something, still keeping his composure, then Sans snort. “you were still a babybones, you wouldn’t remember,” he grumbles. “ain’t no way you can help.”

“I could if you would  _ let _ me,” Papyrus responds, raising his voice just a bit. He’s starting to get nervous, you can tell. “Sans, just tell me what they look like, what kind of folder or binder they’re in. We can split the work, it will go faster.”

“no. there’s only two places it would be in here an’ this is one of ‘em,” he says, gesturing to the file cabinet. 

You move the cookies to the cooling rack and spoon the next batch onto the sheet, throwing it in the oven to bake and setting the timer. You leave the oven mitt on the counter where you found it and rejoin Mettaton at the wall. He gives you a tired look and shakes his head. After an excruciatingly long moment of silence, Sans starts digging through the file cabinet again, mumbling to himself, while Papyrus sits at his side, looking lost and unsure of what to do. 

That’s just sad. While you think Sans doesn’t deserve your kindness in the least, you sigh and look around. You’ll only help for Papyrus’ sake. 

“Are you sure there’s nowhere else around here you could have put your stuff?” you ask, folding your arms over your chest. Sans looks up at you with a scrunched expression. 

“no, there isn’t.” His voice is strained.

“Well, why don’t Pap and I look around anyways? We might find what you’re looking for, and if not, then you’ll know for sure it isn’t here.” 

Papyrus looks at you, a hopeful look on his face, as if you’re some kind of angel. You shoot him a small smile before turning your attention back to Sans.

“no,” he says again. “look, kid, you hardly know me. i don’t need your help.” His tone rises. Of course he can’t redirect his anger onto his brother, you realize, but he sure as hell can redirect it onto you. “you’re a stranger. you don’t understand what’s going on. you don’t know  _ shit _ .”

You open your mouth to retort, but Papyrus stands quickly before you can, drawing Sans’ attention away from you. “BROTHER,” he says, his loud tone scolding, “DO NOT SPEAK TO OUR FRIEND LIKE THAT. IT IS RUDE AND VULGAR AND HURTFUL. APOLOGIZE.”

“can’t apologize for somethin’ i ain’t sorry for.”

That… stings, to say the least. Mostly because he’s right. You _don’t_ know what’s going on, and you’re not even sure what you’d be looking for. Sans wouldn’t tell you no matter how many times you ask. Instead of averting your eyes and muttering something to Mettaton about checking on the second batch of cookies, as your initial thoughts tell you to, you keep a glare level and pointed at Sans.   
“SANS, YOU CANNOT MEAN THAT,” Papyrus says, his own frustration heightening. “WE ARE ONLY TRYING TO HELP YOU, AND YOU DECIDE THAT SHE IS NOT GOOD ENOUGH TO HELP YOU?” 

“she don’t know what’s going on,” Sans growls. “and you know what? neither do you, paps.” He stands just as abruptly as his brother did. You can feel the buildup of magic in the air as he quickly disappears from your sight in little more than a tiny blue blip. 

“Well,” Mettaton breathes, and that about covers it. 

You let go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding and look to Papyrus, who seems a little more dumbstruck than anything else. Before you can say anything to reassure him, you’re trapped in a rather bony embrace. 

“I AM SORRY FOR THE WAY HE SPOKE TO YOU,” he says. “I AM SURE HE DID NOT MEAN IT.”

“It’s alright,” you say, muffled by his chest. You count four ribs pressed against your cheek. 

You’re sure that he meant it, though. Still, it’s sweet of Papyrus to apologize on his brother’s behalf. You may never hear it from Sans, but this makes up for it. Kind of. You’re still pissed at him, and for good reason, but you’ll let those words go for Papyrus’ sake. 

“Why don’t you sit and relax for a moment, darling?” Mettaton coos, his hand resting on the small of your back as you’re released. His face is painted in more concern than you’d expect to see on a robot’s face. Kudos to Alphys for making him so expressive. “Papyrus and I will finish up in the kitchen while you take a small breather.”

A breather might be nice. You’re not sure when Sans will come back, and you’d like to have some semblance of composure when he does. If he does. You offer them both a weak smile.

“I think that’s a good idea,” you say. Mettaton nods with a satisfied exhale and a smile of his own before he leads Papyrus back into the kitchen, murmuring about making things a little easier on you. He’s quite the gentleman when he’s not parading his accomplishments, you decide. 

You settle on the couch, idly scrolling through something or other on your phone, and the smell of homemade alfredo sauce wafts through to you. That alone makes you feel a little better - it reminds you of home, when your mom would get a little “naughty” with dinner, as she would say, and make something not so much on the healthy side. Your father never really appreciated it, because on top of everything else, he’s a bit of a health nut, but you can clearly remember the surprised and slightly delighted expression on his face when he caved and finally tried some of what your mother had made. It was a glorious moment, one you’re sure to relive when Papyrus gives it a try, which will hopefully be soon.

Your stomach growls, just barely. It’s more of a feeling than an audible thing. Having only coffee in your system right now, you’re ready to actually eat, especially since you haven’t smelled the sharp evidence of burning yet. Whatever Mettaton is doing to keep Papyrus on track, you hope that it sticks with the tall skeleton for the rest of his cooking career. 

Something near the hallway catches your eye through your peripheral vision, though, and your train of thought is interrupted. You turn your head enough to see Frisk, half hiding behind the small wall that forms the edge of the archway, holding a blanket tightly in a way that makes it cover half of their face. They look around, seemingly startled and uncomfortable, and only come forward when you beckon them with a gentle hand gesture. They shuffle over, stopping right in front of you, and their shoulders shake with a small sniffle. They look ready to cry. 

Oh no. No no no. A crying Frisk is always a terrible sign.

_ “What’s wrong?” _ you sign, immediately reaching out to rub their shoulder in the most comforting way you can think of. 

They hold the blanket out so you can take it and take a breath to steady their shaky hands. They sign out their words carefully, to be sure that their words are coherent. 

* _ “Sans hasn’t been mad in a long time,” _ they start. * _ “It’s scary when he is. I don’t like it. I thought I would never have to see it again. He promised I wouldn’t have to. It gives me nightmares.” _

You stop yourself from giving them a quizzical look and think for a moment before formulating your response.  _ “Why do you get nightmares?” _

They shake their head. They won’t answer.

_ “Everything will be okay. Sans is just stressed out and yelled because he didn’t know what else to do,” _ you sign, doing your best to put on a reassuring smile. Frisk nods and wipe away a tear that finally rolls down their cheek. They take the blanket back and crawl up into your lap, curling into themselves until they’re a little ball of Frisk, resting their head on your chest. You adjust the blanket so it covers them up and rub their back through the soft fabric. You know that sometimes the child just needs to ride out their upsets, and if they want to sit on your in silence while they do that, that’s more than fine by you. 

They’re such a sweet kid. It’s more than a little bit of a surprise when they actually get upset about something, at least more than a pout or a defiant comment or a stuck-out tongue. No, you’ve rarely seen them cry in the few months that you’ve known them, and it concerns you. How angry did Sans have to get to make the idea of his anger give the child nightmares, and how frequently did he get that way? He’s normally so calm, acting lazy, dishing out sarcastic comments and terrible jokes to make the atmosphere of wherever he is match his calm demeanor. He was ridiculously calm even while you confronted him about biting you, so calm that it seemed like he didn’t even care, which he probably doesn’t. You furrow your brow, trying not to hum, which you know would disturb Frisk with the way they’re laying - you’ve been told that they don’t usually like the vibrations that come from someone humming while they’re in contact with them, so you try to avoid it. Anyhow, you’re at a loss for how to approach this if the child tries to ask you for any advice. Papyrus or even Mettaton would be more suited for that, you think. Papyrus knows his brother better than anyone else, as far as you know, and Mettaton always knows what to say to make someone feel better, what with his extremely suave way of handling any situation. Still, the child chose you for this moment, for this silent reassurance, and damn it, if there’s one thing you’re good at, it’s silent reassurance. 

It doesn’t take long for them to lift their head and offer you a smile. It seems they just needed a second to regain their composure. You return the smile in earnest and release them as they struggle to untangle themself from the blanket and bolt back into Papyrus’ room. They return after a split second, replacing the blanket they had in their hands with Flowey, who gives you an uncharacteristically docile look. His attention shifts quickly, as does his demeanor, as Papyrus emerges from the kitchen. 

“COME, EVERYONE, IT IS TIME FOR LUNCH AND THE GREAT PAPYRUS HAS OUTDONE HIMSELF ONCE AGAIN,” he announces excitedly, removing his “Kiss the Cool Skeleton” apron and draping it over the back of one of the dining  chairs just inside of the kitchen’s limits. You haul yourself off of your ass and follow Frisk as they bound after him.

The small dining area shoved off into the corner actually seats the four of you perfectly, even with Flowey placed happily in the center of the small, circular table. Mettaton sits across from Frisk, leaving you with the seat between him and the child. Papyrus will be directly across from you. The tall skeleton serves generous portions of - you guessed right! - chicken alfredo and leaves the pot on the stove before joining you. 

“It looks wonderful, Papyrus!” the flower compliments, his voice chipper and altogether very unsettling to you. Papyrus just beams and looks on at your potted companion with an almost haughty expression. 

If a skeleton can even do that.

“WHY, THANK YOU, FLOWEY,” he says, spearing a piece of chicken and feeding it to him. Flowey hums in appreciation and turns to Frisk to start his usual task of staring at them until they cave and feed him. 

You’ve recently learned that Frisk gets larger portions simply because they like to feed Flowey. You’re unsure of why no one just gives Flowey his own plate - you’ve seen him eat on his own multiple times - but everyone just tells you that the two of them enjoy the game that they play and nobody can really stop them from doing it. 

“So, my dear,” Mettaton says, drawing your attention, “how’s the job hunt been? I heard all about what happened at the school from Papyrus. Absolutely dreadful.”

You swallow a mouthful of creamy goodness, but keep your eyes on your plate. “Uh, well, it’s been… going,” you say quietly. 

He laughs a delicate yet roaring laugh. “Oh, surely that means you haven’t even started,” he comments. You let out a nervous giggle and nod. “Not to worry, my dear. If you’d like, I can find you something absolutely glamorous at one of my establishments.” 

“Thanks,” you say, suddenly a little nervous about his intentions, “but I think I can find something. I really just need something to do for the summer, maybe something I can keep for the weekends after I start student teaching again in the fall.” 

He hums, but says nothing. His expression remains thoughtful and almost mischievous. You remain nervous. 

“METTATON, MAYBE ONE OF YOUR PLACES WOULD BE A LITTLE TOO MUCH FOR HER. THEY ARE VERY FANCY, AND SHE SEEMS TO NOT DO TOO WELL WITH LARGE, DEMANDING CROWDS,” Papyrus says bluntly. He shoots you an audible wink over the table. Bless him for wanting to help, but damn him for being right. You feel yourself crumble a little bit as you nod in agreement, twirling more pasta onto your fork and casting your eyes downward again. 

“Ah, yes, that may be an issue,” the robot sighs. “Well, that won’t do. We’ll have to get you acclimated to a life of stardom one way or another, darling.”

“I don’t really need a life of stardom,” you tell him. “That’s definitely more of your thing. I could never live up to your image.” 

The complement seems to both dissuade him from finding you a job and boost his ego simultaneously. You watch him take a few bites, which raises another set of questions in your mind. How does he even digest it? Even with the weird, magical absorption digestion thing that monsters do (a process that you’re still a bit unclear on), he’s made of metal. Yes, he’s still technically a monster, with a soul and everything. He’s a ghost in a robotic body, is what you’ve been told. How does that food even get to his monster self to be absorbed? Does he have his magic running through all of the mechanical parts? You make a mental note to ask Alphys sometime, since you’re sure you’d never get any answers from Mettaton himself. After all, he doesn’t seem too concerned about his internal function, and a bit overly concerned at times about his external function and beauty. 

“Ah! I know!” His outburst startles you a little bit, causing you to almost drop your fork. He takes a moment to give you an amused look before he turns to Papyrus, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. “Papyrus, dear, you’re still coming to my performance and the gathering afterwards, aren’t you?”

“OF COURSE I AM! THE GREAT PAPYRUS ALWAYS KEEPS HIS WORD.” 

“Oh, I know. And great you truly are. I was just thinking…” He gives you a sideways glance from the corner of his eye, a smirk teasing the corners of his mouth. “Perhaps we should bring Frisk and our lovely friend here along? Frisk has been dying to see one of my shows, I know, and this poor dear hasn’t seen one in her life! What do you think? A great idea or a great idea?” 

“IT IS A SUPERB IDEA,” Papyrus praises. “HUMANS, PLEASE TELL US THAT YOU WILL BOTH ATTEND.” 

“It depends on what this… gathering afterward entails,” you say slowly, watching Frisk nod their head vigorously. You really don’t want to get dragged into any social situations that you don’t feel prepared for. If there’s nothing else that you hate, it’s mingling, and you’re almost certain that this is going to require mingling. 

“It will be wonderful,” Mettaton says, sweeping his arm in the air dramatically, leaning back in his chair to give you a fully glamorous look. “The music! The food! The people! It will all be extravagant, darling. Truly a once in a lifetime experience. Only the most important of the important are invited, and let me tell you, you are definitely the most important of them all. After all, you’re a dear friend of Papyrus’, and I could not say no to him if he asked me to let you along! Of course, he wouldn’t have to ask, but--”

“Mettaton, ‘extravagant’ isn’t something I do very well,” you tell him. It requires mingling. You were right. Normally you’d give yourself some kind of pat on the back for guessing a monster’s mischievous antics ahead of time, but right now, you kind of just want to avoid having to go to this… thing. You don’t have the energy to look chipper and sophisticated and sociable in front of a ton of strangers. Odds are, Mettaton will be the center of attention, with Papyrus and Frisk at his arm, and either you’ll be on his other side, bombarded with questions as well, or you’ll end up separated from them altogether. You’re not sure you have the stamina to deal with that right now. 

“What could you possibly mean?” 

“Doesn’t really sound like…” You make a few empty gestures with your hands, looking for the words you’re trying to say. “Doesn’t really sound like my scene. I may have to pass on tonight.”

“Oh, anything can be ‘your scene’, darling. You just need the right outfit,” he says dismissively. “Say you’ll go.” 

“Mettaton--”

“PLEASE, HUMAN, IT REALLY IS A ONCE IN A LIFETIME OPPORTUNITY,” Papyrus cuts in, giving you _that_ _look_ that he knows you can’t say no to. You heave a sigh, looking over to Frisk. They’re giving you the same look. 

“...I guess it wouldn’t hurt to give it a shot,” you say, finally caving. 

“Glorious!” Mettaton sings, clapping his hands together. “Come now, you must finish eating so that we can find you the perfect outfit! Of course, I’ll let you restrict me to what’s already in your closet…”

You work to tune him out and focus on enjoying the food in front of you. Papyrus really did outdo himself, as he said he did. Normally, you’d think it was just him simply boasting as he normally does, but you wholeheartedly agree with him this time. You can only imagine the shower of praise he would be receiving from Sans right about now if he were here. Sans would be so proud of him, not to mention probably happy that there’s something edible in the house for once that his brother actually cooked. 

Sans. Your mind always goes back to Sans.

Of course it does. No matter how mad and creeped out you are right now, it’s only been a day. You still like him, as much as you hate admitting it to yourself. You shove more pasta into your mouth. He’s disgusting and rude and sloppy and overall just a messy monster, as you’ve grown to truly see in the short time he stayed at Toriel’s with you. He doesn’t give a shit that he crossed a line and upset you. He really doesn’t seem to care that he actually left a mark on you, something that you’re not going to be rid of for a while unless you cave and ask either Toriel or Papyrus to take care of it. So why, dear universe  _ why _ , do you have to be so set on him? 

As you notice your plate is empty, as is everyone else’s, you decide to save that train of thought for later. For now, you have Mettaton to worry about, and how you’re going to convince him to let you keep your shoulders covered without telling him that you’ve been bitten and bruised by Papyrus’ brother. Hopefully he takes no for an answer on this one.

  
  
  


You quickly learn that “no” is not a word in Mettaton’s vocabulary unless it benefits him and only him. 

“Darling, this dress is perfect for the occasion and I will  _ not _ take no for an answer,” he tells you, holding up a dark blue, strapless dress that you’ve had shoved in the back of your closet since who knows when. You purposely left it back there when you moved all of your clothes over from your apartment. You’re not even sure that it would fit you, to be honest, but Mettaton seems more than confident that it will. 

“I told you, I don’t like having my shoulders showing,” you retort. “That’s why it’s in the back of my closet. I don’t wear it! I’ve worn it maybe once.” 

“And now it will be definitely twice.” 

“Mettaton, no.”

“Mettaton, yes.” He cocks his only visible eyebrow at you. “Papyrus, dear, don’t you think she would look just ravishing in this?” 

“ABSOLUTELY,” Papyrus says absently from his cross-legged perch on your bed. 

“See? Papyrus agrees. Now, scarf and sweater off, my dear, it’s time to let me do what I do best.” 

“Mettaton,  _ no _ ,” you try again, a bit more insistent, a bit more desperation in your voice than you would like, but that’s exactly what it’s coming down to. Desperation. “I really would feel more comfortable if you’d let me keep my shoulders covered. Please?”

He huffs, lowering the dress, and places his free hand on his hip. “And why, pray tell, are you being so difficult?” 

“I don’t like having my shoulders uncovered.”

“Darling, I know that you wear an awful amount of tank tops in your everyday life. Don’t lie to me.” 

You sigh. “Look, I don’t want to talk about it, okay? Can we please just agree on that dress and… I don’t know, I probably have some jackets or something in there that would go well with it. Why don’t you do some more digging?” 

He remains silent, lips pursed, gaze fixed on you in a demanding way. There’s no way you’re getting out of this, and you know it. You let out another sigh, slightly more exasperated than the last, and you mirror his stance, both hands on your hips. 

“If I tell you, both of you have to swear to me you won’t breathe a word about it to anyone,” you say. Thankfully, your voice comes out in a way that makes it sound like you mean business, and you do mean business. Mettaton’s expression changes to that of surprise, and he nods. 

“You have my word.”

“You too, Paps.”

“I WILL NOT SAY A WORD TO ANYONE. NOT EVEN SANS AND I TELL MY BROTHER EVERYTHING. THE GREAT PAPYRUS NEVER GOES BACK ON HIS WORD.” 

“Good.” You shake your head, trying to think of the best way to phrase this. Honestly, it’s probably for the best that you’re blunt. They’ll want to see it, but you’ll let them ask for that. “The other night, Sans and I got pretty drunk, and he… bit me. On the shoulder. It bruised pretty badly.”

“Sans was drinking?” Papyrus’ voice lowers, and it’s just as unsettling as it always is. You nod. “I have sworn myself to secrecy, but… that is not something that he is supposed to be doing. Please do not allow him to drink in excess next time, if you can help it.”

You nod, but squint at him. He doesn’t seem to care about the damage to your shoulder, either. Mettaton, on the other hand, looks intrigued, like this is the biggest scandal he’s come across in a long while. 

“Oh, darling, it must have been a truly steamy moment between the two of you--”

“Mettaton, no.” 

“--when he marked you as his!” he finishes, ignoring you completely. He flashes you a grin. “I’m only kidding. It’s terrible, having him mar your precious shoulder in such a way. May I see the damage? There any be something I can do with my unmatched makeup application skills.”

You think back to what Kendra said - she had pretty much the same reaction. You remove your scarf and shrug your way out of your cardigan, leaving your shoulders bare on account of your tank top. You feel your cheeks burn in embarrassment as the two of them come closer to inspect it, Mettaton stretching his arm to shut the door quietly in his advance. You look away from both of them, desperately trying to avoid being able to read their expressions. 

“I don’t think that’s possible,” you tell him.

“Oh my,” they say in unison. 

“You may be right,” Mettaton breathes. “I don’t think that this can be covered.” 

“Right. So you see why I want a jacket,” you say. 

“Indeed.” Mettaton sighs and returns to your closet. “I’ll find something to go with that dress. I believe I saw something earlier.” He rummages through for a moment, and pulls out something that, once again, you haven’t worn in a long time. It’s an extremely dark wash jean jacket, borderline black but just barely recognizable as blue, and when he holds it up with the dress, his eye flashes like he’s realized that he’s brilliant. “I was right! It goes perfectly. I hope you don’t mind an edgier approach to your wardrobe.”

“Isn’t that a bit… dressed down?” you murmur, raising an eyebrow at him. You thought this was a high-end event, as he kept stressing on the way over from Papyrus’ place. 

“No, darling, as long as we accessorize in a certain manner, people will be wearing old jean jackets over their strapless dresses all during the next fashion season.” He gives you a reassuring smile that you try to return. You’re not sure that you want to become a fashion icon. 

He starts going through your jewelry box, pulling out pendants and rings and bracelets that you’re not sure you’ve ever worn. You have a lot more jewelry than you know what to do with, and most of it was actually bought by your mother to go with some of the work outfits the two of you went shopping for. Gifts. Most of it is composed of gifts. You fidget with the skeleton hand ring on your middle finger and keep watching Mettaton. 

“I want to keep this on,” you tell him, holding up your hand so he can see. He grins and nods, murmuring something about it setting up the foundation for the aesthetic that he’s going to build for you. 

Joy. 

You continue to watch him while you listen to Papyrus begin to prattle on about how excited he is and how wonderful it is that you’ll be able to see Mettaton’s performance live. Most people only get to see it on television, or after it’s been recorded and released on DVD, or so he says. 

Eventually, the outfit is pieced together and Papyrus is sent out of the room while Mettaton helps you slip into it. Thankfully the dress fits, and you’re a little surprised that it does, if you're honest. You really can’t remember the last time you put it on. He dangles a pair of black heels in front of your face after completing your hair and makeup, and you reluctantly put those on as well. You stand back up, a little wobbly at first, but as Mettaton whispers a few expert tips on how to traverse the world in heels, you think you’ll do okay. It’s all about balance and trying not to kill yourself. You can accomplish both of those things. You’re pretty sure. 

Before you know it, you’re downstairs, watching the robot leave your side and desperately try to convince Toriel and Asgore, who are sitting at the table drinking tea and talking, to attend as well. Papyrus jumps in, telling them that it’s a great idea.

“Oh no, there is far too much work to be done here,” Toriel insists, giggling and waving a paw at them dismissively. “I have a great deal of cleaning I would like to get done before dinner is ready.” 

“And I have a great deal of paperwork to finish that I did not manage to do earlier,” Asgore adds. “Thank you, truly, for the offer, but we will have to attend the next one.” 

“Of course, I understand that you’re busy,” Mettaton coos. You narrow your eyes. You could have avoided a hell of a lot of headache if he had just let you off the hook that easily. No, instead here you are, getting ready to walk out into the world, looking a way that your normally wouldn’t, more than slightly uncomfortable, but oddly confident. Just a little bit. 

You’d rather stay home and help Toriel with the cleaning, though.

“You all have fun, alright?” she says, standing and straightening Frisk’s bowtie once more. She straightens herself, then fixes Papyrus’ bowtie as well. You have to admit, he cleans up pretty nice for a skeleton. 

You also have to admit that you’re a little jealous that Frisk gets to be so casual, with little more than a bowtie, a dress shirt, and their least offensive pair of jeans. 

“Trust me, Your Majesty, this will be a night to remember,” Mettaton assures her, stooping into a deep bow and kissing the back of her hand. She laughs again, looking back at a slightly flustered Asgore, who changes his expression immediately and gives everyone a warm smile. 

You hear a car horn outside, and you look at Mettaton for direction. 

“That would be us,” he sings, and he scoops Frisk into his arms. “Come, my friends, you have a show to attend, and  _ I _ have a show to star in!” 

You manage to keep stride with Papyrus using Mettaton’s tips on balance, thank the universe. The skeleton opens the front door, ushering you out first, the robot and child close behind you. There’s… a limo. You should have known that this is what Mettaton meant on the way over when he said that there was no need for you to drive to the venue. It’s sleek, that’s for sure, with its black exterior perfectly waxed and clean. The driver gets out to pull the door furthest back open for you. You slip in first upon Mettaton’s quiet urging, and you find the interior to be just as dark as the outside, with plush leather seating and what looks like a mini bar in the middle. 

Who even has a use for that? 

You scoot over as far as you can to let the others in. The seats curve along the back of the vehicle and across the side opposite of the door. This feels more like some sort of party bus than it does a limousine, but hey, this is Mettaton you’re talking about. He needs everything to be absolutely extravagant, doesn’t he? All of the unnecessary bells and whistles aren’t enough for him, you don’t think. He will forever need more things to make himself feel like the star that he is. As if the fame itself isn’t enough.

But from what you’ve gathered, he puts on a hell of a show, so you’re a little excited to see that, at the very least. 

Mettaton takes his place next to you, letting Frisk down to find a place to sit wherever they feel like it. Papyrus brings up the rear of your limousine-boarding train, and the door clicks shut behind him rather abruptly. Before you know it, the vehicle is moving, and your anticipation and anxiety begin to build.

Frisk moves around, playing musical seats with themself (or at least, that’s what it looks like), and they completely ignore your futile attempts to tell them to sit in one spot. You give up entirely on trying to get them to listen to you, and you sit back in your seat, crossing your legs delicately and tuning in to the conversation that Mettaton is having rather loudly with Papyrus.

“It’s a remake of my smash hit from the Underground, but that’s  _ really _ all I can tell you, darling,” Mettaton says, his legs crossed towards Papyrus, who’s leaning into the conversation, looking more interested than you’ve ever seen him. 

“AS YOUR BIGGEST FAN, I CANNOT WAIT TO SEE THIS NEW AND IMPROVED PRODUCTION,” he says. Mettaton seems to soak up the praise like a sponge. You cringe a little at how quickly his ego inflates. You can almost see it. 

“What about you, dear? Are you excited as well?” the robot asks, looking over to you with mild disinterest. He knows that he won’t get such overwhelming support from you, but you still give him an easy smile. 

“I can hardly wait to see it,” you tell him, and it’s not entirely a lie. You  _ are _ pretty excited to see his performance. It’ll definitely be something to talk to your mother about, if nothing else. Hopefully it’s just as good as the critics always say about his productions, though you’re fairly certain that if Mettaton wanted to pay them off for good reviews, he probably could. 

Hey, have a little more faith in him. 

As he turns back to bask in Papyrus’ unconditional attention, you try to shut off your cynical, bitter mindset. This is going to be a fun, once in a lifetime opportunity, and dammit, you’re going to enjoy yourself. Repeat that mantra to yourself a few million times and remember to breathe. You’re going to be just fine. There’s going to be a ton of other people, sure, but none of them know you and none of them will care to, just like you won’t care to know any of them. There’s nothing to worry about, there really isn’t. You just have to stay the shortest possible amount of time and then head on home. Mettaton won’t mind if you duck out a little early and catch a cab most of the way back home. In fact, he’d probably send you home in another limousine. Also, Papyrus has Frisk for the weekend anyways. You don’t have to worry about trying to pry the child away from whatever thing they’ve fixated on to get them home. You don’t have to deal with pouting child. Everything will be fine and you’ll have fun. 

At least, you think so until you pull up in front of the theater and see the line outside of it and the cameras flashing in the limo’s general direction.

Even through the tinted windows, it’s a little blinding. The door opens, courtesy of the driver, and Papyrus slips out as if he’s done this a million times. Frisk bursts through after him, striking pose after pose for the amused audience. Mettaton murmurs something to you about drawing all of the attention, and encourages you not to look away from the cameras as he slips out. 

He’s right. Suddenly, every eye is trained on him, and it’s fairly easy for you to almost sneak out of the vehicle. No one seems to notice you until Mettaton pulls you almost roughly into his side. 

“Smile, darling. Who knows where these pictures will end up!” he says, and you take into consideration your training in dealing with unsatisfied parents. You can make a fake smile look real long enough to get through this.

Though this definitely isn’t what you signed up for. 

After only a couple of excruciatingly long moments, Mettaton starts pushing through the crowd towards the doors to the theater, telling everyone that there’s absolutely no time for questions and all of you really must be getting ready for the show. Before you know it, the heavy doors are shut behind you, and you’re met with a very extravagant entry hall, all decorated in deep reds and accented with golds. It’s gorgeous, something out of a movie, a true opera house. You find yourself gawking at your surroundings, having never really been to a place like this before, and Mettaton rumbles in his amusement. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he says. “This is why I wanted to become a star on the surface, darling. I wanted the opportunity to show my friends amazing places like this. Awestruck expressions are why I do what I do.” He smiles down at you, and you think you’re done being mad at him for dragging you out. Once again, you can only see him as a sweet guy, trying to give people experiences they otherwise might not have, even if he goes about it in a spoiled, misguided way. 

“It’s amazing, Mettaton,” you say, and his expression softens further. He hugs you into his side once more with his arm that’s still looped around your shoulders before releasing you. 

“The only thing that can be more amazing than this is the performance!” he says, and you think he’s motivating himself. “The action! The drama! The bloodsh--” Frisk gives him a quick smack on the leg, and he adopts a sheepish expression. “I mean, the romance! This will truly be a night to remember, darling, and I hope that you enjoy yourself.”

“THERE IS NO WAY THAT SHE WON’T ENJOY HERSELF, METTATON,” Papyrus assures him, and Mettaton’s back somehow straightens even more than it already was in his sudden flash of pride.

“You’re right. There really is  _ no way _ that this night could be ruined for you.” He gives you a slick smile before stopping short in his tracks. A woman rushes up to him, clipboard in hand, looking every bit professional and gorgeous as you would expect someone to be in this kind of establishment. 

You briefly wonder if you could pull off a pencil skirt like that.

“Mettaton, thank god you’re here,” she breathes. She seems frazzled. “Do you know how late you are? We need to get you backstage immediately! They’re going to start letting guests in soon. Like,  _ minutes _ soon! We have to get your personal guests seated and situated and we have to get you ready and--”

“Darling, please, everything is in order,” Mettaton says, cutting her off and giving her a reassuring smile. “I assume someone will be waiting at the theater doors to escort my friends to their seats?” 

“Of course.”

“Then there is nothing to worry about. I, for one, am always ready for my performances.” 

She seems a little relieved, and gestures to the doors straight ahead at the end of the very long entry hall. There’s someone that looks like an usher standing there, and she gives you a look. You in particular. The two of you make eye contact. 

“I’ll be taking our star for the time being,” she tells you. “Please continue down the hall. You’ll be escorted to your seats.”

“Thank you,” you say, and she seems a little surprised that those words came out of your mouth. She must not get very much recognition. You smile at her, and she returns the gesture before turning on her heel and leading Mettaton away, going through a list of things that need to be done within the next five minutes. You sigh and look to Papyrus.

“Well, this is actually happening,” you say. 

“FRET NOT, HUMAN, THIS WILL BE A VERY FUN EXPERIENCE FOR YOU,” he says in a reassuring manner, placing a hand on your shoulder. You let out an amused snort.

“Yeah, that’s what you guys keep telling me.” You look down at Frisk, who’s already bounding away towards the door with the usher. You should probably go after them. 

Thankfully, the usher doesn’t let Frisk in on their own, and waits patiently for you and Papyrus to get down there. There’s not much time before the general public is let in, you realize, as other ushers are scurrying to get into place, but the one assigned to take you to your seats seems calm and complacent, taking his dear, sweet time leading you down to the front row. It’s still a decent distance from the stage, ensuring that you’ll have a full view of everything going on. You sit with Frisk between you and Papyrus in the very center of the row and sigh, taking the time to look around at the room you’re in. 

The ambience is definitely every bit of extravagant as you were promised (and here you thought that it was just Mettaton’s favorite word of the day or something). The actual theater follows much of the same pace as the entry hall - gold on crimson from the intricately patterned carpeting all the way up to the just as intricate ceiling murals. It feels almost too flamboyant, too distracting from whatever will end up on stage. 

Then again, as people file in and the lights dim, you see that the color scheme is hidden in the darkness, making the stage the only place that you can focus your attention on. The seats around you fill, and before you know it, the stage lights are on, the curtain is lifted, and your senses are overloaded with the visual and auditory pleasures that go along with watching a musical. 

The story feels a little vague, a bit ill-written almost, but you’re able to kind of catch the drift of what it’s trying to accomplish. It’s a dramatic story about the forbidden love between a human and an incredibly handsome robot monster (played by Mettaton himself, of course). The two take on the disapproving Monster King and the Monster Royal Guard, proving that, in the end, love conquers all. You can tell that there’s been some awkward, almost rushed rewriting, but the quality of the story itself is rendered totally obsolete by the extremely high quality acting done by Mettaton and the other monsters and humans up on stage. The robot really shines, just as everyone has told you, and it’s not hard to see why so many people are starstruck. 

Also, you’re fairly certain that he’s somehow playing all of the musical tracks through the speakers on his body, however that works. Maybe he was wifi capabilities. 

Another thing to ask Alphys about. 

Papyrus is, of course, the first to begin applauding as soon as the curtain falls on the final scene, as if he knows that it’s the end before everyone else does. Given how close he seems to be to Mettaton, you’re pretty sure that’s actually the case. Frisk joins in almost immediately, as do you, and the rest of the room soon follows. It’s a deafening sound, complimented by whistles and idle chatter. You watch as the cast comes out, all lining up with Mettaton in the center, bowing and reveling in the praise. It’s… over. It wasn’t that long, maybe an hour and a half. It’s hardly a decent time to have dinner, but then again…

“Thank you all for coming out, darlings!” Mettaton’s voice sings out. “I do hope you’ll all be able to attend our little gathering down the street. The information is in the programs each of you should have received before the show.” 

You look down at the pamphlet in your hands. He’s right - there’s an address and some directions to a place down the street that is, to no surprise, owned by Mettaton. Of course it is. The rest of the audience begins to stand and meander their ways out of the room, leaving you, Frisk, and Papyrus to stand and watch the curtain fall on the cast one last time. 

“COME ON, HUMANS, WE MUST MEET METTATON BACK AT THE FRONT DOORS,” Papyrus instructs, waving his hands as if it’ll get you to move faster. You give him a brief glance before ushering Frisk towards the exit in the back of the room, up a ramp, keeping your hand on their shoulder to keep them from straying too far. The tall skeleton follows closely behind you, “nyeh”ing about how great the performance was under his breath. You’re sure that the rest of the night is going to consist of him following Mettaton around and cooing his praises as he had been during the entire show. It was cute at first, watching them idly dote on each other, but you’re growing a little weary of it. 

Once back in the hallway, you find yourself waiting a lot longer than you would like. It took Mettaton barely any time to get ready for the show, but now that it’s over, who the hell knows what he’s doing? You can only imagine that he’s more than high-maintenance, especially after working a sweat… Or something like that. 

You get the feeling that you’re going to have to spend some time trying to really dig to get to know Mettaton better.

Speaking of, out he struts, a large (hopefully faux) fur coat draped over his form. He’s definitely over the top. He grins widely at the three of you before Frisk darts over to jump at his heels and impatiently sign their each and every thought. You figure it’s a good time for them to do so, considering that as soon as you get to this party you keep hearing about, they probably won’t have Mettaton’s eyes on them for very long. As soon as he’s done hearing Frisk out and responding to them in a quiet but all-too-loving voice, he turns his magnificent grin to you.

“So? Was that a once in a lifetime experience or what?” he says, striding up to you with confidence that you wish you had at least a fraction of.  

“It was definitely interesting,” you reply. “Your acting was amazing.”

“I know, darling, I know.” He bats his eyes at you, another smirk resting on his face. “We really must get going, though. We have a party to get to.”

He nearly pushes past you when he starts walking to the front doors, and Papyrus immediately falls into step beside him. You feel Frisk slip their hand into yours, and you smile down at them. At least you can count on them for attention.

Though you’re sure you’re about to get a hell of a lot more than you’d like.

The tall monsters in front of you pave the way for you to clamber into the back of the limousine waiting for you (which you’re fairly certain is the same exact one that you rode in to get there), and you’re followed quickly by Frisk and Mettaton. Papyrus slides in and shuts the door, and you’re on the road again for, according to the pamphlet, really isn’t that long of a trip. You could have walked and probably made better time. If you mentioned that to Mettaton, though, you’re sure he’d just say that, as a star, he needs to make an entrance. 

The whole “life of stardom” thing already seems like a little too much work for you, and all you’re doing is riding along and watching.

The building you pull up to doesn’t look too out of place among the rest of the downtown buildings, with its brick facing and simple signage. Based on the potted topiaries and colored lights on the outside, though, you can only imagine that the inside is much more… Mettaton. 

You’re led blindly into the building, the oddly clear doorway making way for yet another entry hall. This one is fitted in blues and silvers instead of reds and golds, and it’s a nice break from what you’ve been surrounded by. The floors are all a sturdy, light hardwood that seems to stretch through the wide-open doors of what you’re presuming is your final destination. Most of the gigantic room is open space filled with mingling people. Along the two side walls are tables of various sizes and shapes, with different numbers of chairs, some with people sitting at them and talking while they eat food that you can only assume they retrieved from the long table of hors d'oeuvres that sits along the back wall. From the center of the ceiling hangs very easily the largest, most ornate chandelier you’ve ever seen, with hanging strings of crystal that catch the light from the center of it and reflects it in an array of soft colors. There’s waitstaff flitting about between the clusters of people, offering small finger foods and various beverages. As you enter, one swings by and places a glass of red wine in your hand. You taste it. It’s dry. 

You manage to follow Mettaton and Papyrus around for a short amount of time, being shoved into conversations with complete strangers. You do your best to talk about the finer aspects of the performance, as well as complement the beauty of both venues, but really, small talk isn’t your thing. Things start to get awkward really quickly, but Mettaton, bless his mechanical heart or soul or whatever, manages to pull you to a different cluster of people before you make a bumbling mess of yourself. You express your thanks about half a billion times, and you truly are thankful…

At least, until you’ve run out of interesting things to say at one group, and you have four people looking at you expectantly, waiting on your input on what makes the chandelier a true piece of art. You can almost feel a nervous sweat building on your brow, and dear lord, do you wish Mettaton would just sweep you away, telling the group that someone else is asking for you and you absolutely  _ mustn’t  _ keep them waiting. Instead, you swirl your nearly empty glass of wine, watching the red liquid ripple as you steady your hand, and you try to keep the nervous laughter bubbling up in your chest from coming out. You peek up, behind the person directly across from you. Mettaton is busy chatting someone up on the other side of the room. There’s no way you’ll be saved.

“I, for one, think that those crystals are what make it the coolest thing I’ve ever seen,” a somewhat familiar voice pipes up, very close to your ear. “Look at the way the light dances. It’s like a multicolored disco ball or something.” 

One of the women scoffs, and the man beside her clears his throat. You turn your head, thankful to whomever just came and saved your social bacon by saying something very obviously out of place. You’re met with a friendly, brown-eyed gaze that’s slightly hindered by blond hair that just won’t stay slicked back. He’s in a full tux, a professional-looking camera strung around his neck on a thick strap. As realization and recognition washes over you, he cracks a wide grin. 

“Shall we go? I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he goes on, offering his arm to you. You nod, slipping your arm into his and letting him lead you to a table on the far side of the room, far enough from the other people that you can finally breathe. You were starting to get really,  _ really _ overwhelmed.

He pulls one chair out for you at one of the few two-person tables and sets his camera down across from you, holding a finger up and smiling before walking away again. You let yourself zone out and take a few calming breaths. Another glass of wine is set in front of you, as well as a plate covered in fruit and another covered in what is possibly the entire array of desserts that are on the buffet table. 

“Wasn’t sure what you’d want, but I usually come to these things for the cookies,” he says, unbuttoning his jacket and loosening his tie before sitting down. He reaches up and undoes the first button of his dress shirt, and suddenly, he looks much more comfortable, the neatest looking mess you’ve ever seen.

“What are you doing in a place like this, Spencer?” you ask, propping your elbow on the table and resting your chin in your palm. 

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says. “Me? I’m a photographer. I get paid to frequent this kind of stuff and snap only the best pics for the magazines and newspapers. But you? No offense, but this doesn’t really seem like your scene.”

“It’s not,” you admit. “I’d rather be home helping with the house cleaning, honestly. But Mettaton insisted that I come and--”

“You know Mettaton? Personally?” He seems a little starry-eyed, and you nod. 

“Yeah, I’m friends with his friends.” You take one of the cookies from the plate and break it in half before taking a bite out of one of them. “We’ve got Frisk with us, and Sans’ brother. You remember Sans?” 

“The skeleton? How could I not?” He grins at you. “One day I’ll get him to let me take some pictures.” 

“Honestly, Papyrus might be a little more open to that,” you tell him. “He’s really great, and he’s not afraid to tell you how great he is.” 

“Sounds like a narcissist.”

“Not in the slightest. He’s sweet and kind and only wants what’s best for everyone. I think him talking about his greatness is his way of trying to keep positive about everything.” 

Spencer shrugs. “You gotta stay happy somehow.” He takes one of the cookies as well and somehow manages to bite off half of it and still look perfectly poised. “So, I wasn’t expecting you to agree to a date so soon. We’ve only known each other for a couple days, and you haven’t even called me yet.”

“Excuse me? You haven’t called, either.” His grin only widens. There’s chocolate on his lip. You point it out by swiping your finger on your own, and he seems to focus really hard for a moment while he tries to find it with his tongue. When he’s done, his eyes return to you. “Anyways, I’ve been busy. No chance to call. And I wouldn’t call all of this--” you gesture to the room as a whole-- “a date.” 

“You let me take you to a secluded table for two,” he points out. “You let me give you wine and food. Seems like a date to me.”

“Oh, please. I’m just letting you rescue me from unwanted social attention.” 

“Right, unwanted social attention is gone. Now it’s just you and me.”

He’s… sly. You narrow your eyes at him, but you can see he’s being nothing but playful. You can get behind someone just messing around. It’s a nice change of pace from the crazy you’ve been dealing with for the last two days. You think vaguely of your shoulder before shaking your head and letting yourself take another sip of wine. 

“So, what do people do on dates?” he asks, half to himself, looking up and over at the chandelier. “Uh. What’s your favorite color?” 

You snort. “Why? What’s yours?” 

“The color of your eyes,” he breathes, then stares at you for a long moment before snorting himself. “Nah, kidding. I really like purple, actually.” 

“Purple’s nice.”

“Okay. Alright. I see you won’t give me a straight answer on that one. What’s… your sign?” 

“Isn’t this getting a little personal?” 

“It’s normal to ask that on a first date!” 

You raise an eyebrow. “Tell me yours.”

He laughs. “I have no idea what it is. I’d have to look it up.” 

“Spencer, people ask that to test compatibility. You can’t really ask if you don’t know your own.”

“You want personal?” He leans over the table slightly, waggling his eyebrows. “Alright, baby, tell me what size shoe you wear.”

You throw the other half of your cookie at him. Lightly. So the chocolate won’t get on his impeccable suit. 

“That’s a scandalous question,” you say, a bit dramatically. 

“That’s not scandalous to anyone at all,” he retorts. 

“Frisk! They think socks are scandalous.”

“They’re, like, six.”

“Eight. Almost nine. And they won’t even let someone else fold their socks. They take the basket and hide in their room until they’re all put away.”

“What a funny kid,” he muses. 

“What’s it like being a big time photographer?” you ask, hoping to draw his attention away from the odd line of questioning. You’ve been meaning to get to know him a little better anyhow. “Last I checked, you were only doing stuff for Nolan.”

“I’m freelance,” he says. “I pick up odd jobs. If they can get me into an event and pay me for my troubles, I’m all in. It’s pretty fun.” He taps his camera with one finger. “I can document all kinds of things with this little piece of equipment, and people pay me to make their memories tangible. It makes me feel important. Powerful.”

“A little too much responsibility for one man,” you comment. “How do you go from something like this to taking pictures of Nolan’s art, though? The two are really different.”

“Nolan’s stuff is more for my own enjoyment, and I’m trying to branch out into other stuff.” He shrugs. “Been doing stuff like this for a long time, but that… His stuff is real art. It’s real, it means something, while that chandelier that everyone’s so into… I say it reminds me of a disco ball, and they hate me for it. Suddenly I don’t know what things are meant to mean. You can’t appreciate art in your own way in places like this.” Again, he shrugs, a little more drawn out and accompanied by an exasperated sigh. “Nolan is exciting, dynamic, spontaneous. So is his work. That’s really the kind of thing I want to capture, even if its appeal comes from the fact that it’s not permanent.”

“Sounds like you’d rather be on a date with him,” you tease, earning another snort from him. 

“You think he'd be into that?” He looks thoughtful for a moment before shaking his head, the amused glint remaining in his eyes. “Nah, I look up to him as an artist. I want to be confident like he is.”

You hum and watch him finish off his cookie, leaning back in your seat a bit. He holds up the half of yours that you had thrown. You shake your head. You don't really want it. He shrugs and eats it for you. 

“From what I've seen of your portfolio, you should be more confident,” you tell him. “The way you take pictures is amazing. I've never seen anything like it. It’s like you've got some kind of magical ability.”

“High praise coming from someone constantly surrounded by actual magic,” he comments. “But thank you. That means a lot coming from you.”

He's leaning over the table a little, his face propped in one hand, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The way he holds your gaze is… odd. Like you've known him for years instead of two measly days. It feels like he's searching your features for something in a very welcome, comfortable way. 

He's kind of cute. Your face heats, if only a little.

“I don't see how it could mean that much from me,” you say, your voice much quieter than you'd have liked. You're nervous and you shouldn’t be. 

He opens his mouth to speak, but a sudden burst of violent vibrations from your purse both startles you and silences him. You give him an apologetic look before pulling your phone out to check who it is. 

“Shit. I have to take this.” You sigh and hold it to your ear. What impeccable timing. “Hi, Mom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spencer is a really big cutie and I like him.   
> Also I just really want some fucking chicken alfredo.   
> [Tumblr: Spoopy Edition](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)


	27. Pot Roast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When in doubt, name chapters after food!

_ “Your father wants to speak with you.” _

When you still lived at home, you dreaded that phrase. It usually meant that you were in trouble - your dad found out that you borrowed a book from his study without permission, he found out that you skipped a class or you got a not-so-great grade on a test. Your father wanting to “speak” with you or wanting to “have a word” with you was never a good sign for teenage you, and the phrasing still makes you cringe just a little. However, your mother doesn’t sound disappointed, she doesn’t sound like she’s pitying you, as she would when trouble were the case. She sounds… almost relieved. 

“What about?” you ask. 

_ “Oh, I don’t know, says he wants to apologize for how he behaved last week. Honey, why don’t you come by right now and have dinner with us? I’m making pot roast.” _

Pot roast. Not your favorite, but definitely not hated. “I’ll… see what I can do. When’s dinner?”

_ “Let’s say in about an hour, okay?” _

“Sounds good. I’ll see you soon.”

_ “Love you, dear.” _

“Yeah, love you, too.”

She hangs up, and you sigh, shooting Papyrus a quick text telling him that you’re going to have to duck out a bit earlier than you had expected. You slip your phone back into your purse and look up at Spencer apologetically. 

“Sounds like you’ve gotta get home,” he says, an eyebrow arched. He has a weird combination of amusement and disappointment on his face. “Didn’t know you still lived with your parents.” 

“I don’t,” you tell him. “She just wants me to come by for dinner.”

“The spread I got for you isn’t enough?” He gestures to the half-eaten plate of desserts and the untouched fruit plate. “You’re so hard to please. At least tell me what I have to do to get you to stay at our next date.”

You hold in a laugh and shake your head at him. “We’ll see,” you say. “I’ll see you around.” 

“Uh, you’ll hear from me,” he says, fishing his phone from his pants pocket and waving it around a little. “I’ve got your number already, remember? You’re not safe from my charms.” 

“A little cocky there,” you warn. “Reel it in a little.” You stand and turn to start walking away, slinging your purse over your shoulder, but he stands and offers his arm again. 

“At least let me save you from being stopped by someone on the way out,” he says, his voice a little quieter now that he’s closer and you’ve looped your arm through his.

“Your food will disappear.”

“You say that like there’s not an entire table of crap over there.” He jerks his thumb behind him as he steers you towards the main exit, motioning to the buffet table at the back wall. “I’ll survive.”

You hum, letting him lead you to the doors, expertly weaving you through the crowds of people. Once out of the ballroom, he releases you, taking a step back. 

“Later, then,” he says, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah, later,” you agree, letting out a breath you weren’t aware you were holding, then start towards the door. 

For a moment, you’re a little worried that Sans will find out you’ve seen Spencer, and you’re a little scared about what he might do. You had only met the guy and Sans  _ bit _ you. You can only imagine that a little Mettaton-induced mock date will make things worse. It might be a good idea to avoid him a little, or never mention it and hope that nobody saw you with him and gets the bright idea to say something to him about it. 

Then again, you shouldn’t have to be scared of what Sans might do. Contrary to what you’re assuming is his belief, he doesn’t own you, and having a bruise from him definitely isn’t a sign that he does. That was just drunken misjudgement bullshit, wasn’t it? 

Don’t think about it. There’s no point in getting worked up before you deal with your parents. You don’t want to accidentally say something to them about Sans being crazy, as you’re sure it’ll only make your father’s opinion of him and monsters alike worse. 

You walk outside, finding that the night air is a bit warmer than you’d expect it to be - summer really is approaching! - and prepare yourself to try to find a cab with this many other people as competition. You’d rather have driven yourself. Now you’ll have to find somewhere to be dropped off that’s close to home. Maybe you can convince Undyne to take you the rest of the way if you get dropped at her place, since you’re pretty sure the cabs won’t go too far out of downtown.

But it appears there may not be any need. Directly in front of you, as the crowd notices you and starts to part (something you hope never happens again), you spot the driver of the limousine you came in, standing near the back door of the aforementioned limo. He nods at you, acknowledging you.

“Home?” he asks, his voice much deeper than you would expect from such a tall, lanky man. You nod, and he opens the door for you. You slide inside, trying your hardest to avoid the glances from the others outside, and let him shut it for you. 

Being in here alone is much different from when Mettaton and the others were with you. For starters, it’s much quieter, much easier for you to catch your breath and calm down a little. Social situations are stressful, especially such large scale ones, and thoughts of an angry Sans don’t help at all. It feels much roomier, much emptier, much more comfortable without others screaming and praising each other and being a little gag-worthy, and especially so without a child climbing all over you and refusing to pick one spot to sit in. 

The ride home is fairly quick once you get through the angry mass of people fighting to do what you thought you would have to, arguing over who the cab really pulled over for. When you pull up to the house, the front door is closing behind a glimpse of a purple skirt. Toriel is home. Take a deep breath. That makes everything much better. You have to try to get her to do you a little favor, and you’re not too sure that she’d be up for it. 

You thank the driver, unsure that you’ll ever actually see him again, and head up into the house. You have a little time left before you can leave, and hopefully it’s enough to get done what you need to. There’s something you’d rather not slip up and let your parents see. It could make things worse. 

Though getting rid of it could make things worse with Sans. 

You head straight to the dining room to find Toriel, and lo and behold, there she is. She’s putting away groceries, but she stops as soon as she hears your heels clicking on the hardwood. 

“Let me help you with that,” you offer, picking up one of the bags from the island. 

She smiles at you, remaining silent, as you start packing things into the pantry and cupboards. Between the two of you, it only takes a few minutes. 

“What are you doing home so early, my child?” she asks, putting the kettle on the stove and pulling a box of tea down from a cupboard. She takes down one cup, then reaches for another, looking at you for confirmation. When you shake your head, she shrugs and closes the door. 

“My parents called,” you tell her, leaning against the counter. “Came back to get my car. But I had a, uh, favor to ask you first. Is Asgore home?” 

“No, it is just us right now.” 

“Okay, good. And Sans isn’t around?” 

“He is with Asgore. What is going on?” 

You take a deep breath. “Well, uh, you can heal. And you can heal well. And I have a, um, minor injury that I can’t risk my father seeing. It might make his view on monsters a bit worse if he does.” 

Her brow furrows in concern, and she tilts her head at you. “You were injured?”

“Not… really? Sans is calling it a mark, and I--”

“I should not do that for you,” she says simply. 

There’s silence for a moment. You stare at her as she busies herself preparing her tea. “Why the hell not?” 

“Language. And because Sans is considering what I am assuming to be a bruise of some sort to be a mark. Some monsters feel the need to mark their mates, my child, and it becomes a territorial issue if another monster tries to erase it,” she explains. “Sans cares deeply for you, and though he may be going about telling you in a way uncommon for humans, it may very well be the only way he knows how. Be patient with him.” 

That’s… a different perspective. It felt to you as if it were just drunken bad decision making, but now Toriel’s words are starting to convince you that maybe it was something more. Wrong and uninvited, yes, and you still have every right to be mad, but… Maybe he was just going about it in the wrong way, like she said. You feel a slight warmth creep onto your cheeks. He’s wrong and mean and terrible and somehow, you still feel something. 

Well, of course you do. It’s only been a couple of days since it happened, and he’s only really screwed up once. He’s allowed to screw up. 

“Toriel, I would leave it if I thought that my dad wouldn’t freak out if he saw it,” you tell her slowly. “I just don’t want him to see and have something bad happen. His view on monsters is already bad enough, and--”

“Your only concern is your father seeing it?” She sighs, taking another long drink of tea. “Alright, my child, but I expect that you will explain things to Sans so that I will not have to have him come after me about it.”

You heave a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Toriel.” 

She scoots her chair a little closer for you, and you remove your jacket. She looks at the bruise, lightly touching it and humming a little. Soon, you feel the crackle of magic in the air, and a soothing heat encompasses your shoulder as her paw finds a place resting just slightly above it. 

“It will take a little longer to do this than it would with a monster,” she says quietly once a few minutes have passed. “You are not made of magic. If I use too much, I risk causing you real harm.” 

“That makes sense,” you murmur, but really, you’re just enjoying the warmth. It’s like an electric blanket, and on top of knowing that the bruising will be gone, you can feel the muscles in your shoulder relaxing. You didn’t even know they were as tense as they are. 

There’s silence again, and you’re vaguely aware of both the soft tune Toriel is humming and that time is slowly ticking towards you inevitably being late. You don’t really care, to be honest. If you’re late, you’re late, and your father’s speech about time management can suck it. As that thought fades into the back of your mind, you’re deprived of Toriel’s healing magic, and you roll your shoulder to test it. It’s not sore, and you feel much better. Toriel examines your shoulder and lets out a satisfied huff.

“There. You are all set to go,” she says. You slip back into your jacket and stand back up, feeling yourself wobble in your heels for a split second before steadying yourself. You turn to her as she stands as well and wrap your arms around her middle. 

“Thank you, Toriel,” you say. “I promise I’ll make sure Sans isn’t mad at you.”

“Do not thank me until you see it for yourself,” she says, gesturing to the curio cabinet next to the opening to the front room. You move your jacket aside and look at your shoulder in the mirror that makes up the back panel of the cabinet. It looks as if the bruise was never there to begin with. 

“I think you healed a few scars,” you comment. 

“Casualties of war,” she says, and you grin. 

“I’ve really gotta run, but seriously, thank you.” You fling your arms around her one more time before taking your bag and heading back outside. She stands in the doorway and waves you off as you start your car and drive off. 

Now, to deal with your parents. 

They live on the opposite end of town from Toriel, but you’ve found through your visits from the college campus that there’s a few back roads that will take you around the heart of downtown and cut an hour’s worth of driving by half. You’ll be late, yes, but you can always blame it on traffic. They don’t need to know that you made a pitstop to have a mark left by a wayward skeleton removed by a giant goat mom monster. You squint at yourself.   
Your parents live in what you’ve grown to consider to be some sort of mini-manor in the nicer part of town, accounted for by your father’s position as an extremely well thought-of lawyer. It’s in a neighborhood much like Toriel’s, but with bigger houses and probably mortgages that are much more expensive. The house you grew up in was too big and too empty, so you’re sure sure what would possess them to move to a place like this, where just the two of them are usually in one room (that feels sparsely furnished no matter how much stuff they put in there) at the same time. Your father has the large study he’s always dreamed of, though, so you suppose that he’s happy. You’ve heard that your mom likes to host parties once in a while for your father’s clients and business partners, as well as their families, and you can’t help but be thankful that you’ve never been invited. 

The back roads are nearly empty, and you think that, without having to stop for anyone, you may actually be on time, or even a little early. You glance at the clock. You’re doing really well. Before you know it, you’re pulling into the driveway of a red brick-faced house with beige siding and letting yourself out. You knock briefly on the heavy front door before just letting yourself in. 

“Mom?” you call, and your voice echoes while you bend to take off your shoes. High ceilings painted white to match the walls greet you, as does the lightly stained wooden floors. Your footsteps echo off of the walls as well, and you feel like this house could easily be used in a horror film. It’s cold and dimly lit, and though you can smell pot roast from the other room, it feels… off. 

You almost feel as if you’re being watched. 

“Darling, I’m in the kitchen!” you hear her call back, and you shake the bad thoughts from your head and hurry into the kitchen as fast as you can without seeming unnatural. She’s standing at the counter, wearing a white frilly apron and a yellow dress with floral print on it. She looks up and smiles widely at you before returning her attention to the cheese she’s cutting. You swipe a cracker from the plate and she swats your hand lightly. 

“Smells great,” you say after swallowing your stolen treat, and she hums. 

“Thank you,” she says. “I hate to ask, but could you head upstairs and grab your father from his study? He’s been working awfully late lately.” 

She sounds a little spaced out, like she’s forcing the proper speech at a party while not really paying attention. You shrug. 

“Yeah, I’ll get him,” you say. Another cracker is taken, and you head to the stairs. They curve just a little, leading up to the balcony-like second floor. One of the first doors is your father’s study (he spend a full twenty minutes bragging about it back when they first bought the house). You bring yourself up to the slightly cracked door and raise your hand to knock. 

Something stops you.

He’s on the phone, speaking in a hushed tone you can just barely make out. You look down over the balcony to make sure that your mother is out of your line of sight, and that you’ll be out of hers, then move so that you’re not directly in front of the door. You lean in a little to listen to what he’s saying, just to see.

You hate that you’re so suspicious of your father. 

“No, that won’t do,” he’s saying, and he sounds exasperated. “Listen to me, okay? She won’t move back home. She won’t move into a new apartment. She won’t go get a dorm or anything. She’s refusing to let me take her out of harm’s way.” 

He’s talking about you. 

“I can’t back the cult if it risks my daughter’s safety,” he hisses into the phone.

There it is. All of the confirmation you need to prove that your father has indeed been supporting the cult. It hurts a little, actually, and it feels like personal betrayal. 

“I’ll try again. She’s coming for dinner, so I’ll try to find something that’ll make her stay,” he goes on, and he sounds irritated. You hear the phone slam back into the receiver, and your father sighs. “Damn, so persistent…” 

You knock on the door lightly a few seconds after that, and through the small crack, you can see how startled he is by the way he flinches. You position yourself in front of the door and try to make yourself look like you didn’t just hear that your dad is going to try to convince you to come home again. He clears his throat and straightens himself a little bit, then pulls the door open and looks to you with a mostly level gaze. You can tell he's been running his hands through his hair, something he does when particularly stressed. 

"Hello," he says, and you nod. 

"Mom wanted me to tell you that dinner's about done," you tell him simply, thankful for the fact that you took your shoes off and that you're able to keep your voice as level as his expression. He nods curtly, then walks past you, leading you down the stairs and into the dining room. 

The pot roast has already been put out on the table, with a great number of sides that equates to probably more food than the three of you could eat by yourselves. Your mother is setting out silverware and pouring wine into glasses, and you take the seat between the two heads of the table, placing yourself right between your parents. Your father briefly thanks your mother before jumping right into the act of eating. There's silence for a few minutes as you and your mother start the process as well, but much slower than he. You wonder if he's been doing nothing but working and not taking breaks to eat again. You remember him doing that when he had a particularly important case. 

"So, honey," your mom starts after a long and awkward exchanged glance with your father. You wonder if she knows what he's been up to. "You look so... fancy. What's the occasion?" 

"Mettaton had a live performance earlier, and he insisted that I went," you tell her. 

"A live performance? It must be the show that's airing on TV tomorrow night. How was it? What was it about? Tell me everything." 

"I wouldn't want to spoil anything for you," you say, and she huffs, maintaining the smile on her face. 

"Fine, fine, I won't ask any more questions," she says dramatically. 

"Mettaton isn't exactly dinner time talk," your father says gruffly. "Listen. Are you sure you don't want to move back home? At least until you find a new apartment?" 

You stare at him. "Jumping right in?" you mutter. "No, I'm not going to move back in with you."

"Why not?" 

_ Because you're working with the cult that's out to kill my friends. _

"Because I'm already looking for a new apartment, and I'm happy with staying with Toriel until I do." Thankfully your scornful thoughts don't decide to be vocalized, and your tone isn't hostile in the slightest. 

He seems to ignore you, and you can almost picture him reading the newspaper, as he normally would during meals. “Well, what if it were safer for you here?” 

“I wouldn’t abandon my friends just to keep myself safe.” 

“And you’re sure you wouldn’t? If things got bad, your instinct wouldn’t be to run away?” 

“That’s a big if.”

He clears his throat. “Let me rephrase.  _ When _ things get bad, you won’t run away?” 

“I don’t know,” you admit, because you don’t. When you walked out of Grillby’s back door not too long ago just to find Sans barely clinging to himself, your first instinct was to run. If things got worse than that, you’re not sure that you’d stick around. 

Though it wouldn’t hurt to have a little faith in yourself. 

“I need to be able to support them,” you go on. “My whole life is revolving around these monsters right now, and I’m not going to drop everything and leave them. I don’t think Toriel would let me, anyhow. She’s pitching a big enough fit about me trying to find a new apartment.” 

“And why would she care?” He sounds bitter, and you make the effort to lock eyes with him.

“Because she’s trying to keep me safe,” you say, and he tenses. That’s exactly what he’s trying to do, too, but you honestly feel a little safer with the magically-abled monster friends you’ve earned than you do with your father. 

Your cult-related father. All of your friends’ suspicions are confirmed, and you feel like an ass for trying not to believe them. 

“That’s enough talk about that,” your mom cuts in, her strained smile showing you that she’s desperately trying to keep this situation from developing any further. 

But you’re not done. “I appreciate you trying to look after me, but I can handle myself. I’ve told you that before. I told you that the last time you tried to get me to move back home. I’ll be fine. I think you should worry about whatever situation you’re in first.” 

He gives you an odd look, and you think that maybe he’s piecing things together. You wait for the inevitable explosion, and he looks as if he might. You can see the realization wash over his face as he puts two and two together, and his gaze shoots back up to meet yours from where it was flicking over his plate. 

“Did you hear--” 

“I did. And if mom doesn’t know, I think you should explain things now before things get worse,” you say. “Thank you, mom, for inviting me over. Dinner was great.”

“You haven’t even eaten any--”

You stand, shooting her an apologetic glance before leveling your gaze back on your father. “I’ll be in touch. But really, dad, if I hear anything about you working against monsters again, me disowning you will probably be the least of your worries.” 

He looks hurt, but you’ve already blown up a little, though you’d kept your tone civil the whole time. You can’t stay now, or apologize. After an agonizing moment of silence, you take your bag and cross your arms. 

“I love you. I don’t want it to come to that,” you say, and it seems to leave a sense of finality hanging in the air. The conversation is over. There’s nowhere else either of you can take it. You kiss your mom on the cheek and walk past your dad after thanking them once more and wandering off to put your shoes back on.

In your car, you find your forehead on your steering wheel. You threatened to disown him. You made emotion appear on his face for the first time in a while, and it only reflected his being upset. You feel like you’re making matters worse, screwing things up, but somehow, you know that it was a push that needed to be made. Hopefully it pushes him in the right direction. 

It escalated fairly quickly, though, and you’re not sure that it was the gentlest way to do what you needed to get done. It’s too late for regrets, you decide, and put the key in the ignition. You should really get home and tell Toriel what you’d heard. You’re sure that it’s going to include Sans and Asgore at the very least, if not Undyne and Papyrus as well. It’s valuable information, and you know that they’ll need it. If Undyne and Papyrus aren’t there when you tell them initially, you’re sure that Toriel will call them in and explain things to them afterwards in a much gentler, more thought-out way. 

You kind of hope that it goes that way. 

Again, the back roads are mostly clear, though you’re stopped a few times when someone tries to turn onto the main roads and can’t find an opening. You’ve noticed that getting back to Toriel’s is never too much of a hassle. You can appreciate that. 

Still, you find yourself thinking about what your father said during the entire drive. What if you do end up bailing as soon as the going gets rough? You hope that your friends would understand if you did - you’re not magically inclined, you can’t fight, you’re not even sure of what you would be able to do if you could. You’ve never had to do much fighting on your own. There’s always someone willing to protect you - first your father, then Kendra and Nolan, now your friends. Now Sans. 

You don’t think Sans would forgive you if you abandoned them when things take a turn for the worse. 

Toriel’s place is a welcome sight when you pull up to it, because you know that talking things over with her always makes you feel better about your decisions. You can smell tea being made as soon as you walk in and kick your shoes off. It feels better to have your feet bare, though it is a little awkward walking for the first few steps. Toriel and Asgore are in the kitchen, and you see a dozing Sans at the kitchen table. His eye sockets crack open as soon as you step in, and he lifts his head to give you an odd look. 

“I’m back,” you announce, drawing Toriel’s attention as well. She comes over and smiles at you. 

“I am sorry, I let it slip to Sans that you were visiting with your parents and he insisted that he wait for you to return,” she tells you hurriedly. Sans shoots her a glance as well.

“It’s a good thing he’s here,” you say, honestly a little relieved. His expression softens. “I have something I need to, uh, tell the three of you. 

“Asgore,” Toriel calls, and he joins you at the table. You slide into the seat next to Sans, and the monster monarchy sits across from you. You fiddle with your hands on top of the table. 

“I’m just gonna… go right in,”  you breathe. “I overheard a conversation my dad was having on the phone when I went over there. It was behind closed doors, but…” You take another breath, feeling more anxious than you should under Toriel’s slightly disapproving gaze. “He made it pretty obvious that he’s been working with the cult.” 

Silence. Sans shuffles a little awkwardly in his seat, and Asgore appears to be deep in thought. 

“What exactly did he say?” Toriel asks slowly. 

“He was talking about how I wouldn’t move back home, and that he can’t support the cult if he can’t get me to safety,” you tell her. “He tried to convince me again at dinner, tried to tell me he only wanted to protect me. I think he knows that I heard.”

“I do not condone eavesdropping, and you know that, my child, but I think that this time, it is excusable.” She looks over at Asgore, who gives a small nod. 

“Excusable,” he agrees. “Though we would not be able to punish you if it weren’t.” 

Sans mutters something under his breath that you can’t quite make out. 

“However,” the king continues, “this is not information that can go unnoticed. We will have to wait and see if more information comes to us--”

“or investigate,” Sans contributes. 

“I do not think that is wise,” Toriel says. “I will not risk letting you get hurt.”

Sans huffs, but remains silent. 

“I think waiting is our best bet,” you say, agreeing with Asgore and completely ignoring Sans’ suggestion. “My father looked… not well. I’ve never seen him look that stressed. It’s like he’s falling apart.”

“and when he does, he’ll come to you,” Sans says.   
“Given the circumstances, probably.” You lean back in your seat a little. “He would never talk unless it was his last resort. The fact that he looks like he might is a really bad sign.”

Toriel nods slowly and lets out a long exhale through her nose. Asgore does much of the same, exchanging a glance with Sans. The skeleton looks to you, his eyes flicking between your shoulder and your eyes for a moment, then he settles with placing a hand on your arm in what you’re guessing is a reassuring gesture. 

It feels terrible to know that all you can do is wait.

* * *

 

The red lettering on the clock beside the bed say’s it’s closing in on midnight. He sits upright, moving slowly and carefully as to not disturb his sleeping wife. The room is dark, almost impossible to see, just the way that it needs to be to keep her asleep. He’s not sure why, though, and he never has been. She always wears a sleep mask over her eyes. She could sleep in pure daylight with how thick the material is. He got it for her for her birthday a few years ago, after his daughter’s cat chewed the last one up while doing things that kittens do. He had been opposed to getting a cat for that very reason. 

He shakes his head. He has to get his thoughts in line, to get his composure gathered and his last shred of dignity and pride into a safe place. He has a phone call to make, one that needs to be placed in exactly two minutes. 

His wife barely stirs when he stands, and he doesn’t touch her when he looks back at her as she often does to him when she wakes up in the middle of the night. She’s very affectionate. He isn’t. It works somehow. 

The study is right down the hall. He uses the railing along the drop to the first floor to guide himself. He left the light on before he went to bed, and for this very reason. He pushes the door open and clicks it shut as quietly as possible before he sighs and sits in his office chair. It’s plush, expensive, as it should be. A man of his stature only deserves the best. So does his wife.

So does his daughter. His resistant, stubborn, set-in-her-ways daughter.

In more ways than one, she’s just like him. 

He eyes the time on his cellphone. One minute. He has to make the call from his cell, never from his house or office phones. They can’t scramble the signal with those. Only his cell. He unlocks his phone and lets his finger hover over the contact he needs to call, simply named “Leader”. He never learned their name, he’s met them in person once, but even then, he wore a mask. A white mask that he was told is in the shape of the head of a certain, rather common monster. A Froggit, he thinks. He feels that monsters are terrible at giving names to their varied species. 

The time turns. He hits the call button and holds the phone up to his ear.

It rings twice before it’s answered. It always rings twice before it’s answered. 

“She wouldn’t listen,” he says quietly. 

There’s a dark chuckle coming through the speaker. 

_ “Oh man, I knew you’d fail. You’re useless. The only thing you’ve done to help is keeping us out of jail.” _ He cringes at that, only because he knows it’s true and no one is around to see him react with something other than a stony coldness.  _ “Can’t resist your kid’s puppy eyes? I mean, they are beautiful--” _

“Stay away from her,” he growls, and the chuckling turns into nothing short of hysterical laughter. 

_ “You think you can tell  _ me _ not to go near your daughter? Don’t worry, old man, nothing bad’s happened. I haven’t said so much as a hello to her. I can only watch from afar.” _

He remains silent. He’s getting frustrated and a bit disgusted. 

“Course of action?” 

_ “Well, since you’re shit at convincing your own kid to move back home, I guess we have to move on and skip that menial step.”  _ Another laugh.  _ “We’ve got to go after the monsters. I’ll debrief you further at tomorrow's gathering.” _

“At the mountain?”

_ “The very mountain that they should have stayed locked under. Where the base faces the city.” _

That’s a bit out of the way, but he understands why. He shakes his head and takes a steadying voice before speaking again. “What if I said I want to resign? I only agreed to help if I could get her out of there.”

_ “Be at the meeting. You can give your official resignation there,” _ the Leader sighs.  _ “But remember, if you get in my way after that, you’re dead, pal. Very, very dead. And that’ll be my fault.” _

The Leader laughs once more, another bout of maniacal laughter that makes him cringe once more. The phone line goes dead. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for being so late, as always. I'm terrible with deadlines, and carpal tunnel (according to my doctor) makes everything a hell of a lot worse. Still, here's this, something that's about half of my more recent chapters, but it's something!  
> Hopefully the next one will be back on track with the word count. The huge word counts are a lot of fun.  
> [Tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)  
> ALSO: If you haven't read [Falling for a Deal](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8072932/chapters/18498268), then do it! It's super cute and fun to read and a much faster burn than this mess. Written by the extremely talented Andra Nycly and illustrated by tumblr's very own BunnyKing...  
> DO IT.  
> THAT'S AN ORDER FROM THE BOSS.


	28. Oh, Papyrus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You silly, silly skeleton.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: I've already posted this on Tumblr, but I'm going to be completely distracted by the new Pokemon games in the upcoming weeks. I don't want to completely leave you guys hanging, so I want to take some requests for extra chapters! I'll post them periodically in place of regular updates so that there's not a lull in content.  
> I just need some ideas! Have any embarrassing, mortifying experiences? Make me write about them!  
> I'll take and consider anything, just not explicit smut (it's not in the real storyline yet!). I'll do near-smut experiences, though.  
> They don't have to be Reader-centric - it can be anyone! Anything!  
> Leave my ideas in my ask box on Tumblr (the link will be in the bottom notes as always) or the comments on this chapter. Don't worry about them being canon or fitting the universe. Actually, the more outrageous, the better!  
> **End PSA**

It’s morning.

Light filters in through your window, leaving a warm spot in the middle of the floor that, once you sit up, you can see Neo sleeping in contently. You let your eyes adjust to how bright it is, then look at the clock. It shouldn’t be so bright so early, you decide bitterly. Despite that, you throw your blankets off of yourself and swing your feet over the edge of the bed so that they touch the somehow cold floor. After a moment of deliberation - stay in bed, or wake up and operate like a normal human being? - you stand. Immediate regret. You pull some kind of comfortable outfit from your dresser and get yourself changed, then head into the bathroom to take care of your hygiene.

Sans and Papyrus will be here soon. Undyne is supposed to be, too. Toriel had decided to wait until today to let the rest of the group in on what’s going on, given that they are more than willing to jump into action before hearing whatever plans have already been made. It’s a safety measure more than anything, and you can understand it. Sans promised not to say anything to Papyrus when he went home last night, so that’s a relief.

You eye your tank top in the mirror as you wash your hands. The mark really is gone, like it had never been there before. Maybe you should wear a jacket so Sans doesn't flip his shit? You shut off the tap and dry your hands on the towel hanging next to the sink. He would find out eventually anyways. You might as well let him find out now and get it over with.

It was unwelcome anyway. You shouldn’t have to bear with it and wait for it to heal on its own. Besides, for their safety and your own, it was important to have it taken care of before you went and saw your parents, especially with what your dad had been talking about on the phone.

You make sure to shut the door behind you and head downstairs, trying not to trip over the black cat winding his way around your ankles as you descend. You smell bacon. Toriel must already be up and making breakfast for this (much earlier than it should be) morning meeting. You follow your nose into the kitchen to find her busy at the stove, as you expected.

“Mornin’,” you say through a yawn, fishing a mug out of one of the cabinets.

“Good morning,” she replies with her usual chipper, morning person tone. “Did you sleep well?”

“As well as I could,” you tell her. “Was a lot to process last night.”

“I know.” She points to the coffee pot. “It is already done.”

You mutter a thanks and get your mug ready, then lean back against the counter with the prepared beverage held close to your face. You see her eyeing your shoulder.

“You are going to just allow Sans to find out for himself?”

You nod slowly. “He’s gotta find out sometime,” you explain, “and I think he should know now rather than later.”

“As soon as they get here, I want to tell them about what is going on,” she tells you. You swipe a piece of bacon off of the plate beside her when she’s not looking. She gives you a knowing look anyhow. “You will have to postpone your conversation with Sans until afterward.”

“Yeah, I understand.”   
She hums contentedly and whisks away into the dining area. You follow her, finding more food on the table, and take your usual seat. You reach for an apple from the fruit basket that she must have placed there earlier, and as you do, you can hear the front door swing open rather violently. There’s only two people that could be.

“FEAR NOT, FOR I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE ARRIVED!”

That’s all the introduction you need to know that Sans is about to walk into the same room as you.

And he does. You’re swept up into a hug by a very happy Papyrus, who gives you an odd and almost scared look as he sets you down and takes in the sight of your extremely non-bruised shoulder. You give him a weak smile, and he just lets out an uncomfortable “NYEH!” before going into the kitchen to ask Toriel if she’s made any breakfast spaghetti. Sans, on the other hand, takes his time coming over to you, a lazy and almost relaxed grin spread across his face. You try to etch the sight into your mind permanently - you’re not too sure that you’ll see this again anytime soon. His eyelights flick down to your shoulder, and as you guessed, his demeanor instantly changes. He still comes over and slides into the seat beside you, his usual spot.

“thought you were finally gonna start showin’ it off,” he growls in a low tone. You swallow. “who the fuck did this?”

“Sans, listen,” you start, keeping your voice down as well. “I had to. I’ll explain everything and it’ll make sense, okay? I had to get rid of it.”

He looks somewhere between angry and hurt at your words.

“better be a damn good reason,” he mutters, reaching up to trace your skin where it had once been. He lets his fingertips trail down your arm before falling back down and going back into his hoodie pocket.

As Papyrus reenters the room, however, Sans looks just as relaxed as he did when he came in.

“BROTHER! YOU LOOK… LESS ANGRY THAN I THOUGHT YOU WOULD,” Papyrus comments, and while Sans isn’t looking at you, you urgently shake your head no. Papyrus tilts his head, then registers that he probably shouldn’t have said that. With an audible gasp, he hurries away.

“wasn’t him, was it?”

“Do you really think your brother would do that to you?” you hiss. “He loves you. When I showed it to him he completely shut down. He didn’t even offer like you would think he would.”

“you’re right. paps is too cool to do something like that to someone so special to him.” He keeps his glare level for a moment before turning his attention back to the table.

Seemingly right on cue, the front door swings open again with the same level of violence. Toriel swings by and drops a cup of coffee in front of Sans, giving you a reassuring smile before skirting off to yell at Undyne for almost breaking her door yet again. You can’t help but feel that Sans was implying that he should be special to you - and he _is_ , but the past few days have definitely ravaged that idea of the perfect skeleton you didn’t know you saw him as.

You don’t have much time to think about it further. A heavy, cold, webbed hand falls on the shoulder between you and Sans. You reflexively flinch, expecting a soreness from the bruise though it’s gone. You look back at the giant grin and glinting yellow eye of your captor.

“‘Sup, bitches?” she says.

“Language,” Toriel calls as she heads back into the kitchen.

“‘Sup, _besties_?” she tries again. When Toriel comes back in, she gives an approving nod.

“betrayal,” Sans grumbles.

“What?”

“Breakfast,” you say before Sans can repeat himself. Undyne tilts her head. “He said breakfast. Have you eaten yet?”

She squints at you, taking a seat across from you as Papyrus seats himself across from his brother. “Yeah, I ate,” she tells you.

“Good.” You smile and lean back in your seat a little bit.

Toriel sits at the head of the table, effectively placing herself in the center. “Where is Frisk?” she asks, raising a brow at Papyrus as she lifts her tea cup to her lips.

“WITH ALPHYS AND METTATON,” he replies quickly. She nods slowly before shifting her attention to you.

“Our dear friend came home last night with some very important information,” she says, getting down to business. “That is why the two of you have been called here this morning. Asgore and I have discussed it thoroughly and we have a strict set of rules the two of you need to follow regarding this.”

“Why do you always have to come up with rules for us to follow?” Undyne complains.

“Because your reactions are brash and I cannot risk the two of you going into action on your own,” she tells them simply. Undyne makes an annoyed face. “However, you both need to be kept informed on what is happening, especially when it is news regarding the cult. I think that our friend should be the one to share it, though.”

They fall silent, and you can feel Sans tense at your side as he always does at the mention of the overtly anti-monster group. You get to explain this one again. Sans is already mad enough at you for going by yourself - he tore into you about that shortly after you explained everything - and you can only imagine Papyrus and Undyne’s respective reactions. Odds are they’ll be upset with you, too.

Breathe.

“I overheard my father on the phone when I went over for dinner last night,” you recount. “It was a short conversation, but it proved he’s working with the cult. He’s not sure he wants to back them anymore.”

“What do you think he was backing them on?” Undyne asks. She places her crossed arms on the table and adopts a more serious expression. She looks like the Captain of the Royal Guard should, and you’re sure that this level of focus and her determination alone are what took her that high up in the ranks Underground.

“I’m not sure. We know he was keeping people who hurt and killed monsters out of jail,” you say. “Money isn’t really an issue with him, either. He’s really successful. If they needed funds for anything, he would probably be their guy.”

“What would they need funds for?” she asks, more to herself than anyone else. “Weapons? They haven’t really used much against monsters but handguns and knives, from what I’ve been able to gather at the police station.”

“You have been investigating?” Toriel asks.

“A little. Just enough to know what we’re going up against if we have to make a move. There’s nothing on their weird leader, though. It’s like they’re all sworn to secrecy on who it is,” she explains.

“A little investigation never hurt,” you cut in before Toriel can start reprimanding her for making a move without running it by the monster monarchy first. “I think it’ll help. But I’m not sure what they could be spending the money on. They haven’t done anything big yet. Maybe they’re planning something.”

“That could only be disastrous,” Toriel says.   
“Whatever it is, we’re going to find out eventually,” you say. You look down at your coffee. It’s cold now.

“let me investigate,” Sans urges after a moment of silence. “i can find out what they’re using the money for, if they’re getting any, and--”

“No,” Toriel says sternly. “I will _not_ let you put yourself in harm’s way. We have been over this, Sans. Do not ask me again.”

Papyrus shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Sans huffs and trains his gaze on the bowl of fruit.

“Our plan is to wait and see what else comes to light,” she goes on. “Hopefully it will be sooner rather than later, but we cannot risk sticking our noses in dangerous places.” She shoots another sharp glance at Sans, then finishes off her tea. “I made a lot of breakfast foods. I insist that you all eat.” She stands, her words final, and she whisks away into the kitchen.

You look over to Sans, whose face is still twisted in what can only be described as a bad mood. He turns his eyelights back to you. He stares at you for a long moment before looking back to your shoulder. You know he’s upset about that. You should talk to him. It’s a good time to pull him aside and explain.

“Sans,” you start, “can we--”

You blink. He’s gone.

Oh.

“Someone must have pissed him off,” Undyne comments. “Well, I’m off to get some stuff done. Paps, see me to the door?”

Papyrus stands rather quickly and follows her to the door. Something’s wrong with him, too. You look at the apple in your hand and sigh, placing it back at the top of the bowl. You’ve lost your appetite. You barely try to listen to the murmuring in the other room, and only give Toriel a small shrug when she points at the food on the table. She heaves a small sigh and heads off further into the house.

Papyrus returns after a moment, taking a seat across from you and picking up some of what you’re assuming is breakfast spaghetti. He twirls some on his fork and looks up at you.

“HUMAN,” he says, “YOU HAD THE MARK ERASED.”

“I did.”

“SANS IS EXTREMELY UNHAPPY,” he tells you. “HE FELT THAT SOMETHING WAS OFF WHEN HE CAME HOME LAST NIGHT. HE CONFIDED IN ME AND EXPRESSED HIS WORRIES, WHICH IS NOT SOMETHING THAT HE DOES.”

“I told him I would explain, and I was about to pull him aside to do that,” you tell him. “He just... disappeared on me. You saw.”

Papyrus murmurs something, then sighs and offers you a smile. “WHY DON’T WE GO DO SOMETHING A LITTLE LATER ON?” he suggests. “TO TAKE YOUR MIND OFF OF ALL OF THESE SHENANIGANS, OF COURSE.”

“Paps, I appreciate that, but honestly, after Mettaton’s thing yesterday--”

“WE WILL ONLY WALK AROUND DOWNTOWN. YOU CAN SPELL OUT YOUR WOES AND I WILL GIVE YOU THE BEST ADVICE AS ONLY THE BEST FRIEND CAN.” He sounds pleading, hopeful, and he’s starting to give you _that look_.

You shake your head, but find yourself smiling at him. “Yeah, okay,” you agree. “Just don’t make me go to any parties or anything.”

“YOU HAVE YOURSELF A DEAL!” Papyrus jabs his hand out over the table, which you almost reluctantly take. His handshake is wild and rough, and before you can register it’s over, he’s dropped your hand and is back to his breakfast spaghetti.

You feel Toriel’s presence in the room, and she covers your eyes with one large paw. It’s very soft, very warm. You chase away the thought that if you could make a blanket out of her fur, you probably would. When she removes her hand, there’s a plate of food in front of you. You look back at her. She gives you a stern look.

“Eat,” she commands.

You spear a sausage with your fork and bite off the end, and her expression shifts to one of approval. She wants you to eat? Fine, you’ll eat.

Papyrus makes an excited noise, and you look over at him. He points at the bowl of breakfast spaghetti then points at you. At least he has the decency not to talk with his mouth full.

“You want me to try that, too?” you ask, and the subsequent nodding of his head matches the intensity that his voice normally has. You think nodding like that would break your neck if you tried it. Reluctantly - definitely reluctantly this time - you add a little bit to your plate.

It’s not bad. You just never thought that you’d ever find scrambled eggs and bits of bacon in spaghetti.

The two of you finish off breakfast, and Toriel murmurs something about taking care of the mess herself. She refuses the help you offer (“Allow me to do this, my child.”), no matter how many times you offer it. Finally, when she manages to tear your plate away from you, you settle for following her into the kitchen to get more coffee. Upon your return, Papyrus stands and adjusts his shirt.

“DO YOU WANT TO GO WATCH METTATON AT MY HOUSE?” he asks.

“We saw Mettaton yesterday.”

“BUT YOU HAVE NOT SEEN ALL OF HIS SPECIALS THAT AIRED UNDERGROUND, HUMAN. THEY ARE VERY IMPORTANT AND ARE ONE HUNDRED PERCENT THE BEST ENTERTAINMENT YOUR HUMAN EYES WILL EVER WITNESS.”

You snort a little. “Let me finish my coffee, yeah?”

“OKAY!” He plops back into his chair, waiting patiently and not unlike a puppy for you to drink the liquid.

It takes a little longer than he would have liked it to, you guess, based on his waning excitement and growing frustration. As soon as you feel bad and start to rush a little, you manage to burn your tongue. You change your mind. You’ll take your time.

He snags your mug as soon as you’re finished and rushes it into the kitchen. You take that split second to pull your bag off of where it hangs on the back of one of the chairs and to get yourself more or less in order. You make sure your phone and keys and everything else that you know you’ll probably wind up needing at some point or another are in there. As you zip it closed, a bony hand takes you by the elbow and leads you rather roughly to the front door. You get him to stop long enough to let you put on shoes, and then you’re through the door, with it slamming shut behind you.

“Toriel’s door is going to break,” you comment, and Papyrus just shrugs.

“GET INTO MY CAR, HUMAN. THERE ARE A GREAT MANY METTATON PERFORMANCES WE MUST GET THROUGH,” he instructs. Suddenly, he means business. You put yourself in the passenger seat of his convertible and look over at him with vague interest as he gets in as well.

“You really like Mettaton, huh?”

A small, orange blush creeps across his face. So unnatural blushing colors run in the skeleton family, huh? “THAT IS NEITHER HERE NOR THERE.”

You hum, and let him off the hook as he starts the car and pulls out of the driveway a little roughly, almost urgently. You make sure your seatbelt is buckled. You’ll have to ask him about Mettaton later, when he’s not at risk of crashing the two of you into a lamp post, especially if it gets such an interesting response when you barely mention it.

He leaves the top down, which isn’t so bad - the late-morning air is getting warmer by the day, and for once, you’re not regretting leaving the house without some kind of jacket. The sun is bright and warm, and while you’re enjoying that, you can’t help but think that you might have overheated and possibly died if you hadn’t convinced Toriel to heal the damage done to your shoulder, if you had to continue wearing a jacket just to hide it. You shudder.

“ARE YOU COLD, HUMAN? YOU’RE SHIVERING,” Papyrus comments, and you shake your head.

“No, just thinking,” you tell him, and he makes a noise of acknowledgement before turning the radio up. It’s some pop song you’ve never heard.

You tune it out and turn your attention back to the passing scenery as you start to go further into town. You’ll have to gather your thoughts and figure out how to plainly explain things to Sans so that he’ll understand and not blow up in a huge fuss about it. He needs to understand that you had to, it was a necessity, because if your parents had asked you to remove your jacket at the dinner table (which they did most of the time, you’re unsure of why they didn’t this time), then they would have seen the mark, and that could have made things that much worse. Right? Right. You’re not sure how to word it - maybe just like that? - but if he decides it’s not good enough, you’re sure that you’ll be facing his wrath. Not that you should have to. He did it without your permission and, drunk or not, it’s definitely not okay. It doesn’t matter that you liked it in the moment, it doesn’t matter that it’s gone now. You shouldn’t have to apologize, especially since he never did.

You’re not in the wrong. Don’t forget that.

Everything around you is more or less dark all of a sudden, and you come back to reality long enough to realize that you’re in the parking structure for Papyrus’ apartment building. That was quick. You get a little nervous thinking that Sans might be up there (he does live there, after all), but a reassuring glance from Papyrus fills you with a little more hope. You follow the tall skeleton through the structure and into the building, where he happily greets someone at the front desk through the office window and leads you into the elevator.

There’s a soft, jazzy rendition of a song you recognize but can’t name. Elevator music is truly the worst.

He leads you out of the elevator once it reaches the fourth floor, then shuffles through his highly decorated key ring for the key to their front door. He just about kicks the door down as soon as it’s open, and you follow him inside. Homey as always.

He takes the remote and turns on the TV before wandering away to open Sans’ bedroom door. You try to peek in, but with the angle of the wall separating the living room from the hallway, and with Papyrus’ frame, you can’t see. Damn. Papyrus comes back after only half a moment, shutting the door behind him.

“HE IS NOT HERE, IF THAT IS WHAT YOU WERE WORRIED ABOUT,” he announces, sitting on the couch. You join him, sticking to the other end. You know this is where Sans normally sits. Smells like ketchup.

“No, it would be fine if he was,” you lie. “I need to talk to him anyway.”

Papyrus flicks the input over to the DVD player and accesses a flash drive connected to it. “ALPHYS PUT ALL OF THEM ON THIS NIFTY HUMAN DEVICE FOR ME,” he informs you, and you put in effort to look amazed. His confidence visibly rises. “METTATON IS THE STAR OF THE UNDERGROUND, AND, AS YOU KNOW, HE IS SLOWLY BECOMING THE NUMBER ONE STAR OF THE SURFACE, AS WELL. ONLY A TRUE FAN SUCH AS MYSELF WOULD HOLD ON TO ALL OF THESE SPECIALS AND LIVE PERFORMANCE RECORDINGS.”

“You’re really the coolest,” you say. Again, a visible swell of confidence comes over him.

“INDEED I AM, HUMAN.” He hits the first one, simply titled “001”, and lets it come on the screen. He turns the volume way up.

It looks like a terrible home film, one shot with someone’s cell phone camera, but it’s somehow charming. On screen rolls what you can only describe as a… rectangle? With two arms and one wheel. Different symbols flash on the screens that make up its… chest? Face? The whole front side, anyway.

When it starts speaking, Mettaton’s voice comes out.

“What the shit,” you whisper, looking to Papyrus. He seems entranced.

“THAT WAS METTATON’S FIRST BODY, BEFORE HIS CURRENT ONE WAS COMPLETED,” he informs you. “STILL EXTREMELY BEAUTIFUL.”

“I see.” You’re a little confused, but that’s alright. You’re a little more interested in the expressions shifting on Papyrus’ face than what’s happening on the screen, but you know you have to keep watching the screen, lest he find out you’re staring at him.

You go through four or five of these hour-long Mettaton’s Early Career Specials before Papyrus abruptly stands and yanks his phone from his pocket, sprinting into the other room before answering it. His voice is quiet, not that you’d want to listen in on his conversation, so you move your attention back to the screen. It’s some short about Mettaton’s character (Mettaton) having to move out of his home because he is just too damn beautiful and his family can’t take it anymore.

It reminds you to bring up moving out from Toriel’s again, though you’re sure you already know how that conversation is going to go. She’ll tell you it’s safer with her, she doesn’t want you to leave yet, what about Frisk’s education, et cetera.

Maybe you can come up with some sort of compromise.

You don’t have any time to think of one, though, as Papyrus returns almost as quickly as he had left. He still looks happy and confident, so you know that it wasn’t any sort of bad news.

“What was that?” you ask anyway.

“NOTHING, JUST… METTATON,” he says, and with the way his eye sockets turn to the floor at the mention of the robot’s name, and how the blush creeps across his cheeks, you don’t think he’s lying. Not that Papyrus would ever lie. This is the Great Papyrus you’re talking about.

“Oh, alright.”

“IT IS PAST MIDDAY NOW,” he says, looking at the clock. You look up. Indeed, it is nearing three now. Time goes fast when you’re watching a billion episodes of a robot trying to make it big in the Underground. “PERHAPS WE SHOULD HEAD OUT AND DO SOME THINGS IN PUBLIC. SUCH AS WALK AROUND AND BRING LIGHT TO YOUR WOES.”

“We can’t just talk here?” Really, you’re in the mood to drill him about Mettaton.

“HUMAN, PLEASE, OUTSIDE AND SUNSHINE WILL BE GOOD FOR YOU,” he urges.

“Okay, alright, fine,” you concede. There’s no arguing with him. He seems to have his heart set on something, plus the fact that once again, he’s starting to give you _that look_. You can’t say no to Papyrus, and you have a feeling that he knows that and is using it to his advantage.

He gives you the widest grin you’ve seen on any skeleton’s face and picks up your bag for you, thrusting it into your arms and shutting off the television.

“THERE IS NO NEED TO TAKE THE CAR,” he tells you as you’re pushed out through the door. He locks it behind him.

“I figured,” you say, and he hums as he just about shoves you into the elevator. Instead of turning down the small hallway that leads to the parking structure, Papyrus leads you through the front doors and out onto the street.

“PERHAPS WE SHOULD GET LUNCH,” he suggests. “YOU HAVE NOT EATEN SINCE BREAKFAST, AND I KNOW THAT HUMANS CONSTANTLY NEED ENERGY INTAKE.”

“That is a true fact,” you agree. Food sounds good, though you’re not sure you want to deal with a bustling restaurant right about now. He slings an arm around your shoulders and lets out a triumphant “NYEH!” as the two of you start down the street.

“SO, TELL ME WHAT IS BOTHERING YOU,” he says.

“It’s Sans. And the mark. I just need to explain things to him, but I’m not sure I can get him to listen,” you say. “It’s really a simple story, he shouldn’t get mad about it. I’m just not sure how to talk to him.”

“SANS WILL LISTEN IF YOU ARE SINCERE,” Papyrus reassures you. “IF ANYONE KNOWS MY BROTHER, IT IS ME. THERE IS NO WAY THAT HE CAN BE MAD IF YOU ONLY TELL HIM THE WHOLE TRUTH.”

“But this is different, Paps,” you say. “Toriel said that a mark is something really important, really special, and even if it was unwelcome, I know he’s having a hard time knowing I got rid of it.”

He remains silent for a moment. “WELL,” he breathes, “THE ONLY WAY YOU CAN FIND OUT HOW HE FEELS AND WHAT HE MIGHT SAY IS BY TALKING TO HIM. HE HAS NEVER MARKED ANYONE BEFORE. I DO NOT KNOW HOW TO HELP WITH THIS.”

You can see him deflate a little bit. You quickly take his bony hand and squeeze it.

“Hey, it’s no big deal. I’ll talk to him as soon as I get the chance,” you reassure him. “There’s something else, though.”

He tilts his head.

“I’m going to try to talk to Toriel about moving,” you try, and he seems to regain interest. “I think I know what she’ll say. She’ll tell me not to leave, but I at least need to get my crap out of there so I can stop paying for it.”

“THE GREAT PAPYRUS HAS ALL OF THE STRENGTH THAT YOU WOULD NEED TO MOVE ANYTHING,” he says. There he is. He’s back. He swells with pride and pulls you rather tightly into his side. “NOTHING IS TOO BIG OF A TASK FOR ME! WE WILL HAVE YOUR BELONGINGS OUT OF THERE FASTER THAN ANY HUMAN COMPANY COULD.”

His shouting earns a couple of odd looks from other humans on the street, but most seem fairly indifferent. You wiggle out of his grasp and nod.

“If I can convince her, then would you be willing to help me? Maybe?”

“I WILL BRING UNDYNE AND IT WILL GO TWICE AS FAST!”

You can’t help but smile. “Thanks, Paps.”

“I heard mention of my name!”

You’re grabbed from behind, and from the feeling of cool, scaly skin on yours, you know exactly who it is. As if the voice didn’t give it away first.

“Hey, Undyne,” you wheeze. If she tightens her grip at all, you’re sure a few ribs might break. “Thought you had some stuff to get done?”

“Yeah, I did,” she says, mercifully loosening her grip on you. “Got done ages ago, but I need Papyrus’ help with something. Something else, uh, came up.”

You arch a brow at her. Somehow you feel like this was planned.

“OH! IF UNDYNE SO DESPERATELY NEEDS MY HELP--”

“HEY, I wouldn’t say I’m desperate!”

“--THEN I MUST GO TO HER AID!” Papyrus finishes out, giving her a sharp look. “BUT, OH! WHAT IS THAT? GRILLBY’S IS RIGHT THERE, HUMAN. PERHAPS YOU CAN GO IN THERE AND EAT LIKE THE TWO OF US WERE GOING TO DO BEFORE UNDYNE COMPLETELY CAME OUT OF NOWHERE.”

This was definitely planned.

“You’re trying to get me to talk to Sans, aren’t you?” you guess, and Papyrus freezes. Undyne lets out a nervous laugh and slings her arm around his shoulders.

“Whaaat? No, nah, we wouldn’t… We would never plan something like this!”

“You totally would.”

She coughs. “Would not! But if he’s in there, it wouldn’t hurt to talk to him! Now, Papyrus, let’s go! This important business is, uh, important!”

“ROGER!” Papyrus agrees, and the two of them all but sprint past you, earning a few odd looks once again.

You look at the front of Grillby’s, which is just a few doors down from where you’re standing. It wouldn’t hurt to go in, and it sort of counts as neutral ground to talk to Sans on, provided that he’s in there. Fine. You’ll play into their game and go in. No surprise, you immediately see Sans in his regular spot at the bar. He seems hunched over, you can tell by the way that his arms rest on the bartop that he’s nursing either a drink or a bottle of ketchup. You hope it’s the latter.

You decide to approach after a quick inhale and noticing a few stares in your direction. You must have been hovering near the doorway for a few minutes. For it being the middle of the afternoon, there’s quite a few people here, monsters and humans alike. You slip into the empty seat beside him and look over to him. A familiar blue tinge has found its way across his cheeks, and based on the pungent contents of his glass, you can say with certainty that it’s not from embarrassment.

“th’ hell you doin’ here?” he grumbles. You pull the glass away from him, knowing he’s had much too much to drink, and he just whimpers.

“That’s enough for you,” you tell him. Take a drink. Scotch.

“th’ hell you doin’ here?” he repeats, a little louder. You motion to Grillby for him to take the drink out of sight, and the fire elemental leaves a bottle of ketchup and a glass of water between the two of you. He crackles in a friendly way.

“I came to talk to you,” you tell him. “Though I was hoping you’d at least be sober.”

“not that drunk,” he insists.

“Drunk enough to keep your mouth shut and listen?” you ask. A sideways glance in his direction shows you that he’s nodding slowly. Good. “There’s a reason that the, uh, mark is gone. I just wanted to clear that up with you.” He stays silent, but he shifts in his seat so that he’s facing you. You look in his direction as well. “I had to go see my parents last night, right? Normally they say no jackets at the dinner table, and with what I was wearing, the mark would be perfectly visible. Too visible.”

“don’t see how that’s a problem,” he mumbles.

“Sans, with my father the way he is, who knows what he would have done?” You sigh and lean back in your seat a little further, watching him take hold of the ketchup bottle and raise it to partially parted teeth. “I didn’t want to make things worse. If I didn’t think it would have been an issue, I would have just let it heal on its own. Probably.”

“who took it off?” he asks after a pause.

“Toriel.”

“not my brother? not that overgrown calculator?”

“It was Toriel. She even told me it was a bad idea. I had to do some serious convincing.”

He snorts, but says nothing. He drains the rest of the ketchup bottle and looks at the bartop.

“i’m mad that you got rid ‘a it,” he says, his voice slow and methodical, as if he’s concentrating on every word he says. “i’m mad that you didn’t want it.”

“It was uninvited,” you tell him.

“so?”

“So, that’s not an okay thing to do, Sans. I’ve told you that.”

“you liked it.”

“I was drunk and you know it. You know that very well,” you hiss. He shakes his head and seems to settle down a little, resting his forehead against the bartop.

“Sorry,” he whispers.

“For what?” you push.

“for pissin’ you off, not askin’ permission or whatever,” he says, and you sigh. You can’t accept that apology and you know it, even if it’s probably the only time you’ll hear one from him at all.

Still, unacceptable. You’re still mad about it.

“I’m still mad about it,” you say, making your thoughts heard.

He chuckles. “thought you might be.”

You squint your eyes at him, but say nothing. He fiddles with the hem of his sleeve.

“you kept sayin’ ‘i like ya, i like ya’. then that kid, whatever th’ fuck his name is, that pushed me over th’ edge. if you like me so much, and he thinks he can get in the way ‘a that, then maybe i can get away with makin’ everyone know who you belong to.” His sockets darken. “but you don’t, do ya?”

“You don’t own me, Sans,” you say.

“you’re right, i don’t.” He stands, a little shakily, but he seems alright. After a second, his normal relaxed demeanor is back. You would think he’s completely sober if it weren’t for the blush lingering on his face. “i’ll take you home. we can finish this later.”

“You shouldn’t be teleporting when you’re--”

“not that drunk.”

“You’re not seriously going out through the back door after what happened last time.”

“‘m serious.”

He shuffles away, saying something to Grillby about putting it on his tab (as always, the bartender sends a warning shot of embers in the skeleton’s direction, as well as a quiet muttering that he needs to actually pay his tab eventually). You follow him, to keep an eye on him, if nothing else. You’re not sure how well he can teleport when inebriated - does it mess with his ability to control his magic? You’re not entirely sure. Still, through the kitchen and the back door you go, into the alley that you didn’t want to see for a long while. It still feels like a crime scene, though it’s much less anxiety-triggering in broad daylight. You can see faint red splatters on the concrete a little ways away, where Sans had been dropped.

You’re back here much too soon.

Sans snakes his arm around your waist, pulling you in and giving you what must count as a reassuring smile. “i’m right here, ain’t going anywhere.”

“We’re going home, you liar,” you retort.

His grin spreads. You smile a little, too. It’s nice not having a hostile interaction with him. You feel magic build in the air around you, between you, caressing every atom of your being, and when you blink, you’re back on Toriel’s porch.

“Well, thanks,” you say. “I know this talk isn’t over.”

“i’ll come by later tonight,” he says. “when i’m a little less not that drunk.”

You snort. “Alright, great. Should I expect to find you throwing stones at my window, or..?”

“teleporting in usually works for me.” He shrugs, and you can’t help but smile a little.

He’s gone before you can actually say goodbye.

* * *

 

You spent a long time debating with Toriel about the pros and cons of you moving out of her house. She eventually agreed on a compromise: you continue living with her until the brunt of the cult nonsense blows over and you find a sustainable job for the summer, and you can move your belongings from your current, unused apartment into a storage unit, which would be a hell of a lot cheaper. You’ll just have to get Papyrus and Undyne at the very least to help out, considering Papyrus already agreed to, and Toriel added that to her list of demands anyhow. You’re more than happy to comply. Anything to make it so you don’t have to continue paying for a place you don’t even live in.

You’re starting to regret quitting your shitty retail job when you got into student teaching. At least it was fairly stable.

You’re fresh from the shower, in clean pajamas, teeth brushed. Overall, you feel fresh, ready for bed. But you’re still waiting for Sans. He said he would come by.

It’s already late. You decide to pick up a book and read. It’s been a little while since you’ve read anything for fun.

A few hours go by. You look at the clock. It’s nearing one in the morning.

Where the hell is he?

You decide to say fuck it, just go to sleep. You can hardly keep your eyes open anyhow. There’s no reason you can’t get any sleep, and if he does come by, you’re sure he’ll wake you up. You turn off the bedside light, leaving your book on the table next to it, and slip down further into your bed to try to get some sleep.

  
  
  
  


“wake up.”

You’re sure you’ve heard those words a few times, one after the other, but you’re not sure for how long. You’re too deep into your sleep. You feel bony hands close on your shoulder and shake you lightly.

Go away. Sleep is more important.

Something warm brushes against the conjunction of your neck and shoulder, where the old bruise was, where the tension melted away when Toriel healed it for you. It still feels like bone against your skin. Maybe you should listen and wake up.

“wake up.”

No, you kind of want to keep sleeping. You know who it is trying to get your attention. He’s late. He’s extremely late and you’re not obligated to entertain him right now. Fuck him.

“wake up.”

But no, maybe you should wake up. He was in such a good mood earlier.

Wake up.

“wake up.”

You try, but you can’t seem to pull yourself from your blank imagination. There’s nothing being imagined. It’s just the inky blackness of the backs of your eyelids. Just open them. You just have to open them.

“ _wake up._ ”

The warmth is still on your neck, the voice closer. You feel it part, something sharp pressing into your skin. Gentle. It’s only a little pinch, like getting nipped on the hand by a playful puppy.

You know exactly what he’s doing.

You jolt, and he moves back. A dark chuckle fills the room. You can see, somewhere in the void-like dark of the room, his blurry outline, the blue of his lit eye socket lapping at the air like flames.

“you didn’t respond at all. was like you were dead,” he comments. He’s amused. You glare at him and sit up.

“I was sleeping, you ass.”

“i could tell. have fun with the new one. don’t think it’ll be going anywhere anytime soon.”

New one..?

When you look up, he’s gone.

You stand, a little shakily. You know you should go back to sleep, you should worry about this in the morning, but you can’t bring yourself to. You turn on the light, temporarily blinding yourself, and look to your mirror.

Nothing on your neck this time, thank the universe, but there’s a dull ache resting just above your hip. You lift your shirt a little to take a look.

There, a small bruise, something like how a hickey might look.

You turn off the light and collapse back into bed with a huff. If you weren’t still half asleep, you’re sure you’d be pissed.

Scratch that, you decide as you drift away. You’re definitely pissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a shaky end, but once again  
> God damn it, Sans.  
> [Tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)


	29. Hip Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the author manages to piss everyone off even more.  
> In which the author isn't sure if she actually edited this or not but she really doesn't want to check right now so she'll do it later.

You wake up, a sweat beading across your brow, like you had some kind of nightmare. Visions of that blue eye plague you, as they have all night. Sans came in, like he had said he would to talk to you, but you were asleep. He bit you or something, right above the hip, then nipped your neck to wake you. What the fuck? You thought that the two of you were coming to an understanding, that maybe the odd interspecies morality issue was done being misconstrued. No, apparently he doesn’t seem to understand, and you’re livid. You’re not sure that you want to speak to him again, let alone lay eyes on him. You’re not sure that you can see him as a friend. 

You stand carefully, trying not to exacerbate the ache you’re sure you’ll feel when you try to move. It’s not there, surprisingly. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to begin with. 

It doesn’t excuse it at all. 

You eye the mirror as you move to make for the door. No, you don’t want to see it. You just want to lay into him one last time, show him that every shred of respect you had for that skeleton is gone now. Fuck him. You’ll have to let Papyrus know that you don’t want anything to do with his brother. Not that you’d cut off contact with the tall skeleton. He hasn’t done anything wrong. You’d never abandon him.

You wonder how that conversation would go.

As you head down the stairs, ready to go get coffee and try to convince Toriel to heal this one as well so that you don’t have to deal with it, you hear a familiar chuckle, the same, dark one from last night. You shudder. No, no no no. You don’t want to deal with him yet. You keep your eyes down and move as quickly as you can into the kitchen. Coffee first, then a serious conversation with a skeleton you hope to cut off entirely.

Again, you wonder how that’s going to work, especially when you’re such close friends with his brother. Neither of them seem to leave Toriel’s if they can help it.

Maybe you’ll have to cut off all of your monster friends altogether, move back into your apartment and meet Frisk somewhere in public, somewhere neutral where you can finish out their lessons for the school year. Though, now that you’re thinking about it, they probably don’t need your help. They seem pretty capable of learning things on their own, and Toriel wanted to be a teacher anyhow. This would be excellent practice.

Your heart drops. These monsters are a huge part of your life right now, and you can’t just abandon them when the going gets rough with one of them. You can’t let Sans ruin this for you. 

You can’t abandon your friends.

But your patience is nearly out. You can’t keep letting Sans walk all over you. You thought he was a lazy good-for-nothing with too many jobs and a sense of humor that’s only charming every once in a while. He’s a dick. You’re not sure what made you like him in the first place.

Oh, that’s right. He was really sweet to you, really kind and considerate. He took care of you, made sure you were safe, protected you. Now he’s gone and thrown that all down the drain.

Like the dick he is.

You find your way into the kitchen, not having seen him yet. You get down a mug and start a pot, seeing as none has been brewed yet. Maybe Toriel didn’t expect you to be awake yet. No matter. It doesn’t take long for the half pot you set it for to brew. You pour the dark, near-scalding liquid into your mug.

You can feel magic, someone behind you.

“boo.” 

Fuck this.

You whip around and, without a second thought, dump the contents of your mug directly onto his head. He stares at you in awe as you turn back around and refill your mug. You dress it up with sugar and creamer, careful not to step in the steaming puddle around his feet, and walk to the other side of the island. You lean an arm on it and bring the mug to your lips. He turns slowly, his eye sockets completely blackened.

“what... the hell?” He sounds completely surprised, as if he thinks that he’s done nothing to deserve that. Fuck him, he’s done everything to deserve that. You shoot him a glare before taking your coffee into the living room.

Toriel and Asgore are on one couch, and you greet them both with a smile. Toriel looks like she’s been alerted by something, like a mother would look when they hear a screaming child. She gives you an apprehensive look.

“What was… that splashing sound?” she asks.

“I accidentally spilled my coffee on Sans. He’ll clean it up,” you say, taking a seat on the couch opposite of her. 

“How do you accidentally--”

“that wasn’t no accident.” He’s in the room, pissed, just before where the hardwood ends. He’s dripping with coffee. You think some may have gotten in his eye socket. Whatever. Serves him right. He can’t feel temperature anyways.

“What happened?” Asgore asks, turning to look at the angry skeleton.

“i went to scare her, and she fuckin’ dumped the shit on my head,” he growls. “th’ fuck did i do to deserve that?”

“It was completely an accident,” you say. “He scared me.”

“you don’t fuckin’ dump coffee on someone’s fuckin’ head when you’re scared!” he argues. He’s all worked up. Good. 

“I do not know what has gotten into the two of you, but it needs to end immediately,” Toriel says sternly. “The two of you are to go up to her bedroom and you will not leave until your differences are sorted out.”

“I don’t want him on my carpet with coffee clothes,” you say.

She sighs, pinching the bridge of her muzzle between her eyes. “Then go home and change, Sans, and I expect you back here within the next five minutes.” 

Sans mutters something and disappears. 

“My child, did you really pour coffee on his head?” she asks, exasperated.

You nod. 

Sans is back within a matter of seconds after that, and Toriel escorts the two of you upstairs immediately. She’s sure to take your coffee cup from you. The door is shut and magically locked behind you - when you twist the knob, it stops as it would if it were locked from the outside. It doesn’t even have a lock on it.

You’re stuck in here with Sans. At least it’s your space. You move to your bed and sit with your legs crossed. He stands awkwardly near the door, looking around, before moving to your dresser and looking at a few of the items on there. 

“you’re lucky i don’t have skin, kid. you coulda seriously hurt me,” he says, sounding a little annoyed.

“I really don’t think I’m the one in the wrong right now,” you tell him.

“what did i do to piss you off so bad?” he asks. He sounds confused, no longer angry. He’s got a photo frame in his hand. You recognize the date on the back as the date of the field trip to the zoo a while back. 

Is he… serious? With how snarky - how  _ proud _ \- he was last night, you know he would remember, and the time between when you found him at Grillby’s and when he showed up was more than enough time for him to sober up, especially considering he more than likely slept for most of the time the two of you spent apart. 

“I don’t understand how you don’t remember,” you say. 

“again, what the hell are you talkin’ about?” He sets the photo down gently before shoving his hands in his hoodie pockets (you think this is the first time you’ve seen him in a clean one). He turns to face you. 

Just by looking at his face, you know he’s serious. That just pisses you off more.

You stand and take a few steps toward him before lifting your shirt a little and hooking your thumb into the waistband of your pants to show him the damage. “This is what you did to piss me off so bad,” you hiss.

He stares at the patch of bared skin for a moment before crouching for further inspection. You take a step back when his face gets a little too close, his sockets squinted, as if he’s seriously studying you.

“there’s nothin’ there,” he says. “what’re you trying to get at?” 

“What do you mean, there’s nothing there?!” 

He rocks back onto his heels and looks up at you. “i mean there’s nothin’ there,” he repeats. “you makin’ shit up to make me look like the bad guy?” 

“As if,” you mutter. You walk over to the mirror and look into it, down at where you had seen the festering soreness last night. 

Nothing. Just a blank expanse of skin that you could have sworn that you saw bruised before.

“i told you,” he says, standing. “what do you think i did?”

You plant yourself back on your bed, letting your eyes scan the room. You were sure of it - it was so  _ real _ . It was there, you know it was. The only explanation would be that--

“Either you know healing magic and you lied to me, or you got someone else to come heal it after I went back to sleep,” you say. “Which is it?”

“pal, i don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” He sits on the edge of your bed. You promptly scoot away from him. “lemme tell you what happened last night. i was late, that part was my fault. fell asleep when i got home from grillby’s and didn’t wake up until way past when i shoulda been here. anyway, you were sleepin’ when i got here. i didn’t wanna wake you, so i left, came back this morning to see if you wanted to talk now. was greeted with a coffee bath.” He peers over at you. 

That… doesn’t match up. At all. There was no mention of him leaving that new mark, there was no mention of his cockiness or that blue magic or anything else. Still, he had to be the reason your sleep was so fitful, that you woke up feeling like you had just experienced some type of extremely real nightmare.

A nightmare. 

Oh stars, you didn’t just dream that up, did you? 

“And you’re sure you didn’t, you know, do any biting?” you ask, your voice barely coming out as a squeak. He gives you an incredulous look.

“what? no? i just got done winning you back over,” he says. “shit, kid, what kind ‘a monster do you think i am? i might be an ass, but i ain’t that bad.” 

“At least you admit you’re an ass,” you mutter. You… dreamt that? 

“tell me what you thought happened,” he says, just a bit gentler. 

“You were late, and I wound up just going to bed,” you start slowly, the embarrassment starting to creep up. What if you  _ did _ just dream it? How big of an ass would you look like? “But you… woke me up. By nipping me. It scared me a little. “Then you told me to ‘enjoy the new one’ and left. I got up and looked and there was a bruise - a hickey, more like - right here.” You press into the spot. No soreness. Nothing. Even the shoulder where the other one was is still a little sore, and that was healed, so if this one were healed, it should still be a little sore, right?

Sans sighs and shakes his head. “you can decide if you believe me, but none ‘a that happened,” he tells you. 

“I shouldn’t have to be scared that it might have, though,” you retort, your anger starting to come back. You’re not going to forgive him, especially since you wouldn’t be having this conversation right now if he hadn’t left you the first one. Besides, you have absolutely no reason to believe him. You don’t have to trust his word.  

“you gonna stay mad at me for something i didn’t do?”

“Yes.” 

As you have every right to.

“seems a little petty.”

“If you hadn’t bit me the first time, we wouldn’t even be in this mess. I wouldn’t have to worry about it.”

He shrugs. “seemed like the best course of action at the time.”

“You say that like it’s been weeks since you did that,” you grumble.

“hasn’t it been?”

You glare at him. “It was a few days ago, you ass.” 

“time kinda melds together when you’ve experienced as much of it as i have,” he says, almost wistfully. “anyway, kid, if you’re gonna keep being angry, i ain’t gonna stay. let’s just go tell tori that we made up and everything is good.”

“We most certainly did  _ not _ make up.”

“yeah, and i get the feeling that we won’t for a while,” he retorts. “look, you wanna be locked in this room together for some undetermined amount of time? because i don’t. i’ve got work to do and i’m sure you do, too. paps said somethin’ about moving your shit to a storage unit.” 

Oh, that’s right. You were going to see about doing that sometime soon. “Fine. We’ll tell her we made up,” you concede. “Just don’t be surprised if I’m not all buddy-buddy with you right away.”

“wouldn’t expect you to be.” He stands, putting his hands in his pockets, and disappears. Only a moment later, the door to your room swings open, and there’s a very pleased Toriel waiting near it with an extremely uncomfortable-looking skeleton. 

“I am glad that it did not take long,” she says, coming in and lifting you into an embrace. 

“Me, too,” you agree, watching Sans carefully over her shoulder. He shrugs and looks away. “Can you put me down?”

“Oh! I am sorry.” Her smile is completely apologetic when she places you back on your feet and steps back. This is a monster that you don’t think you could ever be truly mad at. “Come downstairs and have more coffee. I am afraid that yours has gone cold.” 

“I’ll… yeah, that sounds good,” you say, and you return her smile. She seems at ease. You follow her downstairs, moving past Sans in the process. 

“Allow me to tell you about something when we are settled,” she says after a moment of what you think is deliberation. “I do not think I have told you about this before, but I believe you are ready.” 

You hum, breaking away from her lead once the kitchen is reached so that you can rinse your mug and get a fresh cup of coffee. Third time’s the charm, as they say. Hopefully. You settle at the table with her, sitting across from her to pay better attention to what she has to say. Sans lingers off to the side, looking uncomfortable still and a bit out of place. You wonder why he hasn’t left yet. He said he had work to do. You shoot him a sideways glance and all he does, once again, is shrug. 

“Sans, will you not join us at the table before you leave?” Toriel asks. “I know you have heard all about this, but perhaps you would like some coffee?” 

“uh. sure.” He moves off into the kitchen, then sits beside her when he returns. 

“I do not know if you have ever heard of my children,” she starts slowly, giving you a look. You shake your head. You don’t think you have. “I had two in the Underground. Our little prince, Asriel, and a human child that had fallen down. They were the first human.” 

She looks sad. You reach across the table and pat her paw. She smiles.

“Asriel was the most timid little thing, so scared to explore, so scared to play with other children. I admit, Asgore and I had spoiled the poor thing. He was hardly independent for most of his life.” She shakes her head. “Then the human fell. He was the one that found them, brought them back home when he found out they were injured. We nursed them back to health, and soon, they were part of our family.” 

She takes a long drink of the tea she had prepared, then looks up at you again. 

“The two of them became the best of friends. They were inseparable. Asriel was finally exploring and having fun, and our human child would protect him from any harm. They were determined to make sure that he was okay. Though… they did have a bit of a twisted sense of humor.” Again, she shakes her head. “The child became very ill and fell down. Asriel tried to take them to bury them in their village, and only got himself killed in the process. We lost both of our children that day.” 

Her voice catches at the end, and you give her paw a squeeze. You’re not sure when she took your hand in hers. 

“I’m so sorry to hear,” you say. 

“It is alright, my child,” she tells you. “I have taken to caring for each of you as my own children since then. That is why I hate to see you and Sans bicker.” Her smile is weak, but genuine. “My dear, while Frisk is nearly the spitting image of my first human child, my dear little Chara, you remind me so much more of them than Frisk does.”

You’re not sure if you should be touched or slightly offended on account of the child’s twisted humor, but you roll with it. Besides, she doesn’t seem to be done speaking. You ignore Sans’ increasingly uncomfortable expression.

“You are so headstrong, so determined to have your voice heard, so protective over your friends,” she goes on. “Yet you are much kinder, much more patient than Chara ever was. I do not mean to compare the two - it is like comparing apples and oranges, I believe is the expression - but I want you to know that you have come to take up a very special place in my heart.”

She pauses for you to speak, but you’re honestly at a loss for words. You look up to Sans, for him to give you anything - anything! - to go off of, some kind of cue on how you should be reacting to this. It’s sweet, and the amount of motherly love you’re receiving is almost too much, and you really don’t know what to say. He averts his gaze when he meets yours.

“I cannot stand to see my children bicker,” she repeats softly. 

“I’m sorry,” is all you manage to say in response.

“Not to worry, my dear.” Her smile seems calmer now. “The two of you have made up, and I have made a little of my history clearer to you.” She squeezes your hand before standing. “All is well.” 

She whisks away into the kitchen once more, and you exchange glances with Sans again.

“I feel like she’s… guilting us into getting along,” you murmur. 

He nods. “probably. i’m, uh, gonna get goin’.”  
You don’t say goodbye to him, but instead just let him leave. He disappears without a trace, leaving his nearly full coffee mug on the table. You pick it up once you finish yours, then bring it into the kitchen to clean it. Toriel steps aside to let you wash them. She dries her paws on the front of her skirt. There’s white fur stuck in the drain trap. You’ll have to remember to clean that out later. 

You need to find something to occupy your time, something to fill the day and keep your mind off of your anger and embarrassment. You’re not sure what to do; most of your friends are at work right now, and without them, you’ve nothing to do. 

You shouldn’t be so reliant on them. 

“Has Frisk not come home yet?” you ask Toriel, moving to root around the fridge.

“No, but they should be here soon,” she tells you. “I understand that Mettaton has already taken care of their lessons for the day. The child is very independent.” 

“Oh.” There goes that half-baked plan. You were going to take care of the lessons and maybe take them to do something, like play in the park. Then again, they normally insist that Papyrus come to the park as well, or at least the small, yellow monster that they just refer to as “Monster Kid”. You’re sure that the kid is in school right now, anyhow.

Again, your day is blown wide open. You could see about getting a storage unit, but you wanted Undyne and Papyrus with you for that. It’ll have to wait. Normally you’d think about ways to spend time with Sans, but with how he’s been the past few days, there’s no way in hell you want anything to do with him, even if this latest scandal was just a dream. Besides, he’s got shit to do right now anyway, and he  _ just _ left, so trying to get him to do something would be a no-go even if he were home. 

You could lay around and spend the day reading. You read for fun every once in a while, but not so much lately. It’s been hectic, even without obligations to fill your day.

Maybe you should get started on finding a new job. It would fill your days until student teaching starts back up, and you wouldn’t be so bored all the time. You wouldn’t feel so unproductive. Maybe that’s something you should do, finally reach out on your own and figure out what you could be doing.

That’s not an entirely bad idea. You skirt around Toriel, heading for the stairs so that you can get on your computer and start hunting. You barely have your foot on the bottom step when you hear frantic knocking at the front door.

“Are you expecting someone, my child?” Toriel calls. 

“No,” you reply. “I’m guessing you aren’t, either?”

“No.” She meets you near the front door, and she decides to step in front of you and open it before you can. 

In the doorway is an extremely disheveled man, barely dressed in his suit, hair looking worse than it would if he had just woken up. Dark circles hang under his eyes, and he looks as if he’s about at his wit’s end. 

“Dad?” you catch yourself whispering, and he gives you a frantic look.

“Please, let me in,” he begs. “I have information on the cult’s plans.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Was it a dream?](http://https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jMnPP6Hbsqg) Was it not? Do we trust the skele? What is going on with the cult?   
>  FIND OUT NEXT TIME ON POKEMON.  
> [The Good Ol' Tumbly](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)
> 
> **PSA:** I'm debating between two options: I can push back to two updates a week (Mondays and Thursdays), then work my way up to three in the summer (though that's a long way off!), OR I can do one longer chapter (10k words+) a week (probably on Wednesday) and work up to two during the summer (again, a long way off).   
>  I just need to know your preferences! Would you prefer shorter chapters more often, or longer chapters a little farther apart? Either way is fine with me, so please don't be afraid to let me know in the comments or in my ask box on Tumblr. I'll tally it up and make my decision on Thursday, which is when the next chapter will be out (for sure this time, it's already done!)   
> Thanks, my friends, for sticking around through all of my bullshit and my purposeful attempts at angering you. It's much appreciated <3


	30. Mt. Ebott

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the ending kind of falls apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm the worst. I'm sorry.  
> I promised this on Thursday, but then I decided to rework parts of it and it ended up taking all weekend when all of my other commitments were factored in.  
>  **PSA:** The results are in! Combining the votes I received here and on Tumblr, the verdict reads that I'll be pushing to post twice a week again. I'm aiming for Mondays and Thursdays, and as long as I get them done on the weekends, we'll be golden!  
>  Thank you to everyone who weighed in with their opinion! Happy reading!

Toriel gives you a long look, her brows furrowed and her paw slowly moving up to cover her mouth. You look from her face to your dad’s a few times before you step back, allowing him room to come in. He’s a mess, much more of one than you’ve ever seen him before. He’s looked more professional walking around the house in his sweats or his tracksuit.

He barely pauses in his haste to remove his shoes before letting you lead him to the living room. You’d put him at the kitchen table, where most of the important information exchanges happen, but you think he deserves comfort. Toriel brings him a cup of black coffee.

“Please wait just one moment while I call in those who need to hear this information,” she says. “It will take no time at all for them to arrive.”

Your father nods as she walks away, her phone in hand. He seems a little sheepish. You wouldn’t blame him - he’s been fighting against these monsters for as long as they’ve been on the surface, and the first thing that their queen does is offer him coffee and show him hospitality. He must be seriously reconsidering his choices on that matter.  

Toriel returns and sits in her usual seat after a moment, waiting patiently in silence until you feel the crackle of magic behind you. Of course she summoned Sans. The bigger presence in the room, however, is Asgore himself, who takes his seat beside his wife and takes on a very regal expression. He means business today, though the bright yellow Hawaiian shirt is throwing you off a little bit. Sans lingers near you, letting his left socket flicker with blue in a threatening way, obviously unhappy about your father’s being there. He never did like the man.

And you don’t blame him.

“Please, tell us about what you know,” Asgore prompts, and your father takes in a shuddering breath, as if trying to determine where to start.

“As I’m sure you know,” he starts slowly, “I have been… in league with the anti-monster activist group, as they refer to themselves. I received a call the other night, saying that there was to be a meeting last night… The Leader decided to push it back to tonight. He says that something big is going to happen.”

“Who is this ‘Leader’?” Toriel asks. Asgore gives her one look before leaning back and visibly letting her take the reins, as he normally does.

“I’ve only spoken to him on the phone, seen him in person maybe once, but always with his mask.”

“A Froggit mask?” you prod.

He stares at you for a long moment. “Yes, a Froggit mask, how did you--”

“i fuckin’ knew it,” Sans growls.

“Language,” Toriel chastises.

“He’s been giving us a few problems here and there,” you explain dismissively. “Dad, what’s going on? What’s happening tonight?”

“A meeting,” he tells you. “The whole organization will be there. I thought that… you should know. I can’t get my daughter away from monsters to keep her safe, so I’ll have to make sure the monsters know what’s going on. Or something like that.”

Toriel gives him a warm smile. “Well, we appreciate it,” she says. “This was the right choice on your part, and you will not have done this in vain. Your daughter will be safe. Where will this meeting be?”

“At the base of the mountain,” he says. “Where it faces the city.”

There’s silence for a moment, and you look to Sans. He doesn’t seem comfortable with any of this, judging by the nearly complete emptiness of his eye sockets.

“And it is tonight, you say?” Toriel goes on, pushing just a little more. “Do you know what time?”

“As soon as the sun finishes setting is what I was told,” he says. “That’s really all I know. I don’t know much more than the average grunt.” He looks a little frustrated about that.

“You have given us more than enough information,” Asgore says. “Thank you for putting your trust in us. We will ensure everyone is safe.”

“Someone will be sent to monitor the meeting, to bring back information,” Toriel adds. She looks over to Sans. “Someone who had been all but begging me to let him investigate, perhaps?”

The skeleton looks less uncomfortable, almost excited, but he keeps his dulled lights trained on your father.

“yeah, i’ll go,” he says, as if it’s far from his interests.

“You should go home,” you tell your father gently. “Get some rest before tonight, maybe spend some time with Mom beforehand?”

He nods, finishes off the coffee, and thanks everyone quietly. You take the mug from his hand and see him to the door. He gives you a wry smile. You do your best to give him a reassuring one and hug him before he leaves. You shut the door behind him, take the mug to place it in the sink, and join your friends back in the living room. They seem to be having a hushed discussion. Sans is the first to take note of your presence, and even he seems to almost disregard it. You return to your seat on the couch.

“We are sending Sans to investigate,” Toriel tells you. “He will be back after the meeting is over and he will tell all of us the details of what happened.”

“I figured,” you reply. You stop talking after that, feeling all of their eyes trained on you. You feel like you should be insisting that you help in some way, that you should at least ask if you can go with.

“I know what you are thinking,” Toriel says carefully when you don’t speak up. “You want… to go with him, do you not? You know that I cannot allow it.”

“That’s why I wasn’t asking,” you murmur, and the room goes quiet once again.

“It is… unlike you to give up without fighting first,” Asgore points out. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine,” you tell them. “Just nervous about tonight, that’s all.”

And scared and sick to your stomach. You don’t want to just assume there’s nothing you can do - you want to _help_ your friends, but you don’t know that you’ll get away with it. You might just get in the way of Sans and his investigation, and there’s a possibility that he wouldn’t want you to come along in the first place. After all, you’re definitely still mad at him for something he may or may not have done, and he knows that. You don’t want that to get in the way.

Though you’re nearly certain that if you went to help him out, you wouldn’t have any issues with keeping your anger in check. This is so much bigger than you and Sans. It’s you and Sans and the entirety of monsterkind and something that may have a much larger impact on their quality of living from tonight onward. There’s no room for tension between you and the skeleton, no matter what might have happened last night.

And you know for a fact that Toriel won’t let you go anyhow. You’re sure that she’ll lock you in your room tonight and expect you to stay there. For your own protection, of course. That goat woman is in no way below going above and beyond the norm to keep you safe. You’re sure that she might lock you in a dungeon to keep you safe if need be.

You hope it never comes to that. You also wonder if the monsters even have a dungeon below their castle. You wonder where their castle actually is.

Sans gives you an odd look, but remains silent. You give him a glance as well, hoping that the fraction of a second that your gazes are locked is enough to convey what you’re thinking to him. He gives the tiniest nod, one that you probably wouldn’t notice if you weren’t looking for it. Your eyes are back on Toriel before she can notice that you ever looked away.

If nothing else, you’re glad for the silent communication that you’ve grown to be able to have with the skeleton. It makes planning a hell of a lot easier.

It makes getting your way a hell of a lot easier.

“We should get back to the castle, then,” Asgore says through an exhale, standing up. “Thank you for bringing us in to share in this new discovery, my dear.” He plants a kiss on the top of Toriel’s head before heading over towards Sans.

“i’ll check back in before i head out tonight,” Sans says, and you’re not sure if it’s directed at you or at Toriel. With where he’s standing, he could be looking at either one of you. You barely get time to try to figure it out, because he takes hold of Asgore’s arm and, with a flash of blue is his left socket, the two of them are gone.

“Well,” Toriel says, looking over at you with the same warm smile she gave your father, “perhaps we should wait for Frisk to return before we decide what to do with the two of you.”

“Perhaps,” you echo. You should have guessed you wouldn’t be the only one locked away. Of course Frisk will be, too. Every time there’s any sort of anti-monster threat posed, you and Frisk are the first to be shoved in the background. You know that the child will try harder than you will to fight Toriel and help Sans.

But you already have a plan.

It doesn’t take too long for the child in question to come through the door, accompanied by Mettaton. You stand to meet them, finding yourself quickly pulled into an oddly comfortable embrace by the robot. He holds you out at arm’s length and inspects you.

“You look exhausted, my dear,” he comments. “Restless night?”

“You have no idea,” you sigh. He cocks a brow at you, almost smirks, then releases you. Toriel is having a hushed, very serious conversation with Frisk at the other end of the room.

“What’s going on with the queen?” he asks, following your gaze. “This whole house is a cesspool of tension. No wonder you aren’t getting any sleep.”

“I don’t know if she’d want me to tell you,” you admit. “We just got some… information. She’s going to want to put me and Frisk on lockdown.”

“So it has to do with that disgusting cult,” he says. “I’ll keep my nose out of it, but if there’s trouble, I expect you to tell me, darling.”

“If you don’t hear it from me, I’m sure you’ll hear it from Papyrus,” you say. Mettaton clears his throat. You weren’t aware that robots could blush.

Then again, he’s a magical monster. If skeletons can do it, then why not robots?

“Yes, I suppose that’s true,” he says.

You smile at him knowingly, and he shakes his head at you. One day, you’ll figure out exactly what’s going on between him and Papyrus.

Today, however, is not that day.

Toriel brings a very annoyed-looking Frisk over to you and gives Mettaton a kind look. “Thank you for looking after the child and taking care of their lessons for the day,” she says.

“It’s always my pleasure, Your Majesty,” he replies, a little dramatically.

The robot hugs you and Frisk each in turn once again before letting himself out. Toriel puts her hands on her hips and looks between you and Frisk a few times before speaking again.

“Well, I have decided what I will do with the two of you tonight while Sans is gone, and I expect that you will cooperate,” she says sternly. She’s not taking no for an answer on anything today.

 

  
  
  
Around eight-thirty, Sans shows back up. The sun is barely starting to set, and he’s trying to figure out exactly what he needs to do with the help of Toriel. After a bit of arguing, Frisk finally locks themself in your room with you, as Toriel had decided needed to happen. Neither you nor the child are too happy about it, as expected, and Frisk definitely makes that obvious by rejecting the parting hug Toriel tries to give them. You, on the other hand, hug the goat monster, telling her that both you and Frisk understand that she’s just trying to keep you from getting into trouble.

After she’s been gone for a while, you look out the window and wait. Hopefully your wordless plea with Sans earlier was heard. The buildup and release of magic and the sudden appearance of the aforementioned skeleton eases your concerns.

“why d’you wanna come with so bad?” he asks. Frisk jumps up and starts signing furiously. From the angle, you can’t see what they’re trying to tell Sans, but you can guess.

The skeleton keeps his eye lights on you, dutifully ignoring the child. There isn’t much time to waste. There’s less than fifteen minutes until the sun will be completely set.

“We’re going to have to get my dad out of there afterwards, aren’t we? I think he’d appreciate a friendly face as opposed to only a skeleton that makes it obvious he hates him,” you point out.

“not a good enough reason. try again.”

“How is that not good enough?”

“because these people don’t play, kid,” he tells you, his voice firm. “i can’t go lettin’ you get hurt, especially since tori doesn’t want you goin’ at all.”

“How bad do you think they would hurt a human that stumbled upon their meeting compared to a monster that did the same?” you shoot back.

“i can teleport.”

You glare at him.

“but you could probably get a little closer than i could,” he relents. “fine, if it shuts you up. but the kid has to promise to cover for you.” He looks down at Frisk, who huffs.

After a long moment, they nod, and bury their face into your stomach when they hug you.

You put on the sneakers that live in your closet and look down at the child one more time before Sans pulls you roughly into his side and the room around you disappears.

You can see the skyline of the city in the distance, and the base of the mountain not too far away from you. The sun is almost completely hidden behind the horizon, a sea of purples bleeding into light pinks lining the sparse clouds serving as the only indication that it was ever there. You can see more stars out here than you ever could near the city. The mountain is more or less off-limits to the human townsfolk - you’ve heard that there’s still monsters living in the Underground, ones who weren’t able to or willing to make the move and adjust to living with humans once again.

You don’t blame them for staying there, not with the ridiculous amount of hate crimes going on.

Sans holds a bony finger up to his teeth, signalling silence, and starts leading you through the wooded area, trying to get closer to the base of the mountain to find a hiding spot for the duration of the meeting. As you move forward, you start to make out a clearing, and you tug on Sans’ hood to get his attention. He looks pissed, but as you point in the direction you think you should head, he seems interested. He nods at you and starts off in that direction. You follow him closely - you’re starting to see red hoods drawn up and various masks being put on. You don’t recognize any of the few faces that you’ve seen.

There’s a particularly thick patch of trees at the side of the clearing that makes a small ring, a perfect hiding place. Sans inspects it before slipping between them, then gestures you to join him. The small space between the trees keeps the two of you fairly close, to your general dismay, but Sans seems much more focused on what’s going on in the clearing than anything else. There are still a few scattered trees between the two of you and the actual clearing, but the distance puts you a little more at ease. Besides, when the sky becomes completely dark, no one will be able to even make out the silhouette of either of you.

Even if you’re not happy with the skeleton, the warmth radiating from him is comforting. Part of you wants to lean against him a little. He’d probably get mad. You distract yourself with watching more and more people show up to the clearing, most of them coming from the opposite side of the space, but some walking around your little tree cluster, making Sans wrap his fingers around your wrist. He’s ready to leave immediately if he has to.

You watch small circles form, with people talking and laughing as if this were a family gathering. You half expect the smell of barbecued meat to come wafting through the air, but it never does. Thankfully. It’s painful to think that this is something that these people find leisurely, comforting, even fun. This is a group that has been mercilessly slaughtering monsters left and right, often enough that the news has stopped reporting it nearly altogether. They shouldn’t think this is _fun_.

The closest group has one member going into detail on how he murdered something, and with the way that the people around him are laughing, you realize that this is just that to them.

Killing monsters is a fun pastime for them.

You cringe, and you can feel Sans’ growing discomfort, as well. You absently rub his arm through his hoodie, and he looks back at you with a puzzled expression. You give him what you hope is a reassuring smile. His eye lights flick over your face for a moment before he exhales slowly and turns his attention back to the ever-filling clearing.

Before you know it, the area is completely black, and you can hear the static of a speaker and microphone coming to life. You look up the mountain just a little, following Sans’ shifting gaze. On a small ledge about a quarter of the way up the mountain, far above everyone on the ground, is Froggit Face himself. The microphone is raised to the lower part of his mask.

“Silence,” he says simply. The voice comes out garbled, almost glitchy, very deep, and it’s very obvious that the speaker is altering his voice. He’s smart. The crowd does indeed fall silent as his command, and he straightens his posture, as if pleased.

You can see your father at the front of the crowd, dressed much more neatly than he was earlier.

“All of you, all of my children, have been making me extremely happy,” Froggit Face goes on. “You kill without mercy. You show the monsters their place. They should have stayed below the mountain, shouldn’t they?”

There’s an eruption of agreeing cheers, and a single raised hand from their leader silences the crowd once again.

“Soon enough, they will retreat back below the surface where they belong. They will leave us and our children alone. They will be soon forgotten once again, as they had been for hundreds of years.” He shifts his stance a little bit. “This is nothing more than a small cog in our master plan, however. You are all serving me well, and we will reach our ultimate goal before we know it.”

There’s silence. You would have expected more cheering, more excited shouts, but the crowd is silent. The faint murmurs you can make out are doubtful, uncertain.

You’re not sure that anyone actually knows what their “master plan” really is.

“Don’t worry, I’ll explain everything to you all soon enough… right after we denounce someone that’s been doubting us all along.” He gestures vaguely to your father. “He refuses to help us now that his monster-fucking daughter won’t get out of the way.” There’s a mixture of confused and excited murmurs now, the volume slowly growing until the silencing hand is held up once again. “What do we do with those who betray us?”

The crowd erupts into shouts of suggestions, each one you hear more violent than the last. These people are terrifying. A wave of anxiety flutters through you. You feel like he’s too far away to convince Sans to go get him.

You’re going to have to sit back and wait.

“That’s right, my children!” the leader shouts over the voices, and they soon quiet down. “I have a punishment fit for everyone who has ever doubted me.”

You hear a high-pitched beep through the cheering.

“Those who doubt our cause are no better than the monsters themselves.”

Another beep. Another, sounding a little farther away.

“Actually, word on the line is that a lot of you have been doubting me.”

A beep, right in your ear. You turn your head, just barely. A bright red light is blinking. A closer look reveals… explosives?

You tug urgently on Sans’ sleeve. He turns to you, his face revealing his own horror. You point at the bundle strapped to the tree.

Another beep.

“There’s no way to tell who individually has been doubting our mission, so…”

“Sans,” you whisper, pleading. If what you think is about to happen, then you need to _leave_. He only nods, he doesn’t move. You can feel the magic building up.

Froggit Face’s head jerks in your direction.

“I’ll have to just take care of all of you,” he finishes, fishing what looks like a remote from his pocket.

“Sans, please.”

“i’m trying,” he hisses.

Anxiety morphs into panic. You’ve never heard of him needing to try to teleport. His grip on your wrist tightens, the beeping moves faster, and the only sound that’s reaching your ears is the nearly maniacal laughter coming through the speakers. Sans pulls on you, dragging you through the gap in the back of the trees.

“Thank you for all of your help so far,” Froggit Face says over the speakers. His voice is followed closely by what sounds like a far off explosion.

Sans lets out a frustrated noise halfway between a groan and a growl, and you feel a sudden, nearly violent burst of magic around you before the scenery changes. You’re not too far from where the first explosion went off, at the edge of the now charred aftermath, but it was smart for him to move over here. Small detonations, one after the other, are working their way over to the side of the clearing you were hiding on before. He pulls you closer to another tree, trying to hide you. He's breathing heavily, like teleporting to safety was the most taxing thing he could have ever done. He pins your back against the tree, forcing you not to look at what you can very obviously hear.

You don't think those screams will be leaving your mind for some time.

It takes an excruciatingly long time for all voices to cease, during which Sans moves closer to you and repeatedly murmurs into your ear that he’s trying as hard as he can to teleport you away, but he physically can’t do it. He can’t get enough of his magic together. It’s almost hurting him. You wonder why he won’t just take you and walk away, but then again, you know that town is a long way away from where you are now, and it would take less time to cross the clearing back to where you had been originally hiding.

You don’t really want to leave, anyways. Not with the twisting, sinking feeling in your gut that your father is anything but okay. You sincerely hope that he managed to get out of the blast radius, that maybe none of these screams are his, but part of you has a sinking feeling that your hopes are for naught.

Once everything fades, you’re left with the crackling sound of the fires in the clearing. Sans keeps you against the tree for a moment longer, listening. When you hear the speakers being rolled away, he backs off of you a little, releasing his hold on your shoulder.

“stay put,” he whispers, peeking around the tree and into the clearing.

You watch him move, and as the sound of the equipment being taken away from the area gets quieter and quieter, your anxiety only grows. He takes a step back to look you in the eye. He looks uncomfortable, even sympathetic, and his eye lights flick over your face for what feels like forever before he finally backs off.

“should get you home, get outta here and talk to tori,” he says with a sigh. “let me try teleporting again.”

“We can’t just leave my dad,” you blurt. His sockets widen.

“i don’t think that--”

“We can’t leave him here,” you tell him, firmer, a little more sure of your words. Your heart feels as though it’s stuck in your throat, like it’s about to explode, but you can’t leave without knowing for sure if he’s…

“he’s not gonna be here,” Sans says quietly.

“We’re checking,” you insist.

He sucks in a breath before nodding, sticking close to you as you muster up the courage to step away from where you still lean against the tree and let yourself turn to face the clearing. The night is glowing a light amber, the shadows of short flames dancing against the scorched base of the mountain. If it weren’t for the charred bodies, most of them hardly recognizable as people in their twisted, dark new forms, it might even be beautiful. Focusing on the morbid beauty doesn’t stop you from wanting to vomit, however.

Sans’ hand traces down your wrist and takes hold of your hand, and you find the courage to step out into the clearing, to head closer to the base of the mountain to see if your father somehow made it out. The ground shifts, if only a little, beneath each step you take. You can feel tension building in the air around Sans. It almost feels like he’s preparing to teleport. He laces his fingers between yours. With the way he’s squeezing your hand, you know his joints are going to leave bruises on your fingers.

But that’s the least of your worries.

You step gingerly around the bodies, trying not to walk over them or step on them, even though in life they probably didn’t deserve the respect you’re giving them in death. You try to keep your attention off of the contorted expressions of agony, the empty eyes, the empty eye sockets. Some are still burning.

Don’t vomit.

You finally reach where you saw your father standing before the explosives went off. You can see a heap, something that must have once been human, something that, considering the black cloth that’s not entirely burned away from it, must be him.

You gag, but that doesn’t stop you from trying to move forward, to make sure, to try to salvage anything you can. Maybe he’s just hurt. Maybe he’s not dead, maybe if you get him to the hospital fast enough--

“stop!” Sans urges, stopping in his tracks and trying not to let you move forward. You glare back at him, your eyes stinging.

“Sans, please,” you say. “I-I just… I need to. To make sure.”

“the ground isn’t stable, there’s nothing but cave systems beneath us, you’re going to--”

“I can take care of myself,” you hiss, yanking your hand from his grip. All of your courage immediately fades, but you force yourself to take another step, another.

“when will you learn to fucking listen?” he growls. “get back here! it isn’t safe. i have a bad feeling.”

“Sans, there’s nothing to worry about,” you tell him. “I just need to make sure that he--”

The ground shifts under your weight, more dramatically than before. Before you can even manage to look back at Sans, to try to head back to him like he said, it gives.

You fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I said that the ending kind of "falls apart".  
>  (bu dum tsssssss)  
> Tell me how not funny that joke was at my tumblr!


	31. The Underground (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are **descriptions of gore** and some anxiety and feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly early chapter! It's still Christmas for me, so here's a Christmas present for you!  
> If you don't celebrate Christmas, then here's a gift, just because!  
> Please note the **warning about descriptions of gore** in the summary. Repeating it right here just in case.

When you think of Alice in Wonderland, you always think about the part where she falls into the rabbit hole. You used to like to imagine how it might feel, to fall a great distance and wind up in a whole new world, something new and different and unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. You used to imagine what it might be like to come into contact with creatures you’d have never known about, like talking cats that grin and disappear and mad hatters and all sorts of other things that you thought were wild and insane and entirely the coolest thing in the world when you were a child.

You never thought you’d find yourself in Alice’s shoes.

As the ground gave way beneath your feet - first a crack, then a complete crumbling of everything around you - you could barely see Sans’ panicked, distraught expression, his sockets black as he jolted forward and reached out for you, trying to catch you like something out of the movies. Of course, it didn’t work, as you were too far down for him to reach you by the time he closed the distance.

Now, you’re surrounded by black, the air sounding like screams as it passes your ears. You’re sure you’ll go deaf at the very least (in the form of a fleeting thought, you’re thankful that you know sign language). You feel as though you should have kept track of the time you’ve spent falling; it’s been a while since you stopped flailing, stopped panicking. You’re sure that with a fall this long, you’re not going to make it.

You can only think of your mom, and how she’s going to feel knowing that she lost both her husband and her daughter in one night.

Just as you decide to let go of hope, you feel a violent burst of something nearby. You feel heavy for a moment, a sharp tugging on something inside of you that you don't think is physical, and you're left distended, unable to fall anymore, just floating. It's surreal, and if it weren't for the ever-sharpening pain in your chest and the panic accompanying it, you're sure this sensation of weightlessness might even be enjoyable. Something hits you from behind, and as you're wrapped up in whatever it is, the hold on you is released. You only fall for another moment or two before you feel the familiar tingle of magic around you and you let your eyes close.

When you open them, you're tangled in pokey warmth, seated upon something uncomfortable. It's similar to a pile of sticks. You try to turn your head to see what it is that's holding onto you so tight. You immediately recognize the color of the sleeves around your waist, the bare bone phalanges gripping your shirt for dear life. You follow the line of the sleeve up to the gray hood and the skull attached to the body the jacket is on. His eye sockets are closed, screwed up in a way that makes him look both asleep and in immense pain.

You try to loosen his grip, but it doesn't work. He holds fast. You lean your head back against his shoulder, your face close to the side of his skull. You can hear his bones rattling quietly more than you can feel it.

“Sans,” you say. “Hey. It's okay. You can let go now.”

He whimpers, but he releases you. You move off of him, out of his warm hold, and you're immediately hit with freezing temperatures. You try to ignore it, to ignore the new, cold wetness of your knees as you settle yourself in front of him. His face still radiates discomfort, so you're sure it wasn't just you sitting on him.

“What’s wrong?” you ask him, running your hands over his arms, trying to feel for anything that feels like fractures. “Are you hurt?”

“not… physically,” he grunts, cracking one eye socket open. His eye lights are flickering a little. You can see yellows and blues between each small flash of white. “i’ve never had a problem using my magic before,” he goes on after a moment. “it’s like… it's being blocked. i almost couldn't catch you.”

You hum. “Where are we?” you finally ask, looking around. There's snow everywhere, which is weird enough. It's the end of May. There's pine trees all over the place, creating a thickly wooded area that is almost too dark for you to see into, and Sans is sitting with his back against some kind of wooden paneling. As you back up a little, you see that you're under what looks like a table with a roof. There's empty ketchup bottles under it, half buried, that look like they've been there for a long time.

“underground,” he tells you. “this was one of my sentry stations.” He scoots forward and comes out from under it. You follow him. “this is real close to the ruins, where frisk fell in.”

You think hard for a moment, trying to recall the details of what both he and Frisk had told you about the Underground. “Does that mean we're close to where you lived?”

“yeah, why?”

“Show me,” you urge. Without him in close proximity, the cold tears through you relentlessly.

“no time. we have to get up to the surface. gotta tell tori what--”

“How do you expect to get us up there quickly if your magic’s fucked up?” you cut in. “I just think we should go rest. Do you think we could call her from here? We can tell her what happened, let her figure things out up there while we get you taken care of.”

He chuckles, giving you an incredulous look. “you’re trying to take care of me? what happened to being unbelievably pissed at me?”

“Now isn't the time for that.” You dust yourself off. Your clothes are covered in dirt, no doubt a product of the fall. “Can we, uh, go somewhere warm? Humans aren't built for this kind of weather.”

“fine, you've convinced me.” He sheds his jacket and holds it out to you. It's a little big on you, which is understandable - it looks pretty big on him, too. It's ridiculously warm, and it smells like ketchup and cologne.

“Thank you,” you murmur. He moves close and zips it up all the way, then pulls the hood up over your head.

“as soon as my magic comes back, we're ‘porting out, so don’t expect a grand tour,” he tells you. He holds out his hand, clearing his throat nervously when all you do is look at it. “for safety. uh, most of the monsters down here are the ones that ain't too keen on humans. you're gonna want to stick close.”

You take his hand. “For safety,” you echo.

The tension at the edges of his grin relaxes. He lingers for a moment, close enough that you’re sure that he can feel your breath on his face, then leads on, taking you away from the little station. You shove your free hand into the pocket, fingers flinching back at the feeling of what you’re guessing are empty ketchup packets sitting inside of it. You shoot Sans an odd look before deciding to just deal with it. You’re more concerned with making sure your fingers don’t fall off or something. You don’t really want to deal with frostbite in places where you could prevent it.

“You’re not cold?” you ask, trying to focus your attention on the bareness of his arms and back, trying to keep talking. You never took Sans to be the type to wear a wife beater. He shrugs.

“can’t feel temperature that well,” he says. “no skin. figured you knew that when you dumped hot coffee on me.”

Your cheeks burn.

“even if i could feel it, i wouldn’t die from being too cold,” he goes on. “don’t worry about it. gotta take care of the fragile human first.” He gives you a slow wink.

“I’m not fragile,” you tell him.

“really? then give me back my jacket.”

You shake your head before he looks away from you. No way in hell you’re giving it up right now.

He snorts, amused. “that’s what i thought.”

“It doesn’t make me fragile,” you argue. “The fact that I naturally can’t take extreme cold doesn’t mean I’m not a perfectly strong human.”

“is that why you haven’t freaked out about what you saw yet?”

You stop walking.

“kid?”

You take a deep breath and start walking again. “Don’t talk about it,” you scold him.

“‘m sorry,” he mumbles. “it’s just… i’ve only ever seen one human not bothered by the sight of death, an’ they weren’t the best human in the world.”

“Oh, it bothers me,” you tell him, and your voice comes out a little more abrasive than you think is necessary. You feel bile rising in your throat. “It bothers me a lot, Sans. I just can’t… Not right now.”

He adjusts his hand so that he can lace his fingers with yours, then gives them a gentle squeeze. “let’s just… get you to my place,” he says quietly. “not too far of a walk, i promise.”

You hum, then let the sound of the snow crunching beneath your feet take over your senses. Frisk had told you that there had been snow down here, but it had also been December when they were Underground, which is definitely not the same thing as nearly June. The fact that they don’t get any sunlight must have slipped your mind; there’s no way for the snow to melt that you can think of. You look up, eyes scanning for the top of the cavern. You don’t see anything at the top – it must be too far up. You wonder how far you actually fell. If Sans hadn’t caught you as he said he did, would you have made it, like Frisk somehow did?

You shudder.

You can see the trees start to thin out a little, then some wooden buildings coming up from the distance. That must be your destination. You’re glad – you’re starting to lose feeling in your feet. Your shoes were not made for snow and are soaked through, as are your socks. You try to focus your attention on the banner that’s starting to come into view.

_ “Welcome to Snowdin!” _

You smile. It’s awfully cute. You can make out some Christmas lights strung on the buildings nearest to you.

“almost there,” Sans tells you. He seems tired, a bit tense. “just, uh, be careful, ok? leave that hood up.”

As you enter town, you notice there’s no real roads or anything, just areas where the snow is stamped down a bit more. The monsters that lived here had made their own path just by walking through the snow, and it looks as though that path couldn’t go anywhere even if someone tried to cover it up. You peer at the buildings from behind the hood. Some of them have lights on in the windows, but you’re not seeing the copious amounts of happy monsters that Papyrus has told you about many times while recounting his time spent in the Underground. The few that you do see in the windows of the shop look… old. Weary. You’ve never seen such unhappy looking monsters. Sans tightens his grip on you. You decide it might be best to keep your eyes on your feet.

Sans looks around as you pass the inn, then pulls you into what looks like an igloo. It burrows down into a tunnel. It doesn’t take too long to get through it, about a minute or two at most, but it comes out between a wooden house and what appears to be a shed that you didn’t even see in the distance before. You wonder if that has anything to do with Sans’ teleporting and shortcuts. He pulls you into the house after fumbling with the lock for a moment, and makes sure to lock it securely behind you.

It’s still chilly in here, but not nearly as cold as outside. It comes as a relief. The walls are a deep purple, the carpeting a chevron pattern. It’s both loud and comforting at the same time. There’s little furniture in the room aside from a couple of tables and kitchen chairs. Sans leads you over to one of the chairs and sits you down, lowering your hood once you do.

“sorry that it’s, uh, not so nice in here,” he murmurs. “paps wanted to move most of our stuff up to the surface.”

“It’s okay,” you tell him quietly. You take off your socks and shoes. You try to rub some feeling into your toes.

Sans is silent, but takes a seat in the chair next to you. He looks more exhausted than normal. “you, uh, feelin’ alright?”

“No,” you tell him. Without the cold to focus on, your mind is starting to wander to the scene you took in before you fell.

You gag.

“shit, fuck, hold on, don’t puke,” Sans says hurriedly, rushing into what you’re guessing is the kitchen and coming back with a trashcan. It appears to have a new bag in it. You mutter a thanks. “kid, do you, uh, wanna talk about it?”

“No,” you groan. “Please don’t make me.” You can’t get the image out of your head as it is, and you feel that talking about it would make matters worse. The smell of burning flesh –a combination roasting meat and burning hair, as well as melting plastic – suddenly becomes very real. Twisted bodies, some with faces frozen in what looks like mid-scream, line your sight, skin either blackened or completely gone, the normally hidden muscles exposed and bleeding and charred. Clothing is either gone or melded with the bodies, probably acting as the source of the plastic smell. Some bodies aren’t even intact; some of the bloody chunks scattered about are clearly recognizable as arms, legs, with bone exposed, bound to the flesh by still-clinging tendons and muscle fibers that look like nothing more than thinly stretched spider webs.

Your father, not unlike the others, barely recognizable, the fabric of his once impeccable suit fused with his flesh, leaving him as nothing more than a mass of nameless flesh.

You lean forward and heave.

Sans switches between awkwardly patting your back and rubbing it with one hand as you cough, sputtering, tears stinging at your eyes, your throat burning from the bile. It doesn’t take long for you to empty yourself out, left with nothing to do but dry heave. You take a few deep breaths once the urge to continue trying to vomit starts to subside, and wait until you feel that your stomach is calm enough for you to sit back again.

“you okay, buddy?” he asks.

“No,” you tell him.

You can’t get rid of the sickening tightness in your chest. You can’t make yourself calm down – your heart is still racing and your palms are sweaty, much in the same way you felt looking at the scene the first place. You feel cold, clammy, and you do your best to focus your attention on the ceiling. Sans shifts in place, looking a bit uncomfortable and unsure. You look over at him, at the dim and shaking pinpricks of light in his eye sockets, and try to focus. He’s sweating, too, but you think that’s because he’s nervous. He doesn’t know what to do with a puking human, let alone one in the mental state you’re in.

But even focusing on the endless void of his eye sockets isn’t enough to take the sight of mangled globs of flesh clinging to trees and stuck in the cracks of the crumbling, scorched dirt out of your mind. You can’t shake the sight of what was left of your father’s face, broken and stripped of any human quality, with its own blank, dead eye sockets.

Your stomach ties itself in knots, not quite tight enough to force you back into dry heaving, but enough to make your chest hurt and the tears in your eyes start to fall. He visibly panics, his sockets going completely dark, what remained of his forced grin failing. He reaches out to pat your arm, to pat your shoulder, and eventually he moves to face you and pulls you into his chest. His bones are hard, extremely uncomfortable, but pressing your forehead into his clavicle and soaking his wife beater with tears is the only course of action your body will let you take. Once you’ve gone from uncontrollable sobbing to a state where you can kind of breathe, he stands, taking your hand and helping you up with him. He says nothing, but points towards the stairs. You follow him up, using the sleeve of his hoodie to keep your face even remotely devoid of tears. He takes you to the room farthest down the hall. He produces a key from the pocket of his shorts and unlocks the door.

You barely register the contents of the room, only enough to avoid the treadmill sitting in the middle and to step over the pile of socks near the bed shoved off into the corner as Sans leads you to the bedside.

“go lay down,” he says gingerly. There’s a couple of pillows thrown on haphazardly, neither of them with a pillowcase. You shrug out of the hoodie and, still sniffling, climb into bed. You scoot so you’re close to the wall, and you keep yourself facing it.

You wait for a long moment, and you can hear Sans walking away. The light turns off, and it’s completely dark. You shudder. You feel his weight come down on the bed next to you, and while it’s small and probably not built for two people, you’re not too troubled by the close proximity. He scoots in close, until you can feel his ribcage press into your back, and his arm drapes over your waist. He pulls the covers over top of the both of you.

“i’m here,” he whispers. “try to get some sleep. it’s late.”

It takes a long time for your eyes to close. Nightmares keep you from getting any decent rest, and you don’t stay asleep for very long at a time. Sans is always there, always awake, to hum and stroke your hair after you turn yourself to face him. He continuously calms you back into your restless state of unconsciousness, and slowly, the nightmares start to fade. When you finally fall asleep for good, your hands under his shirt and tangled in his ribs, clutching him for dear life, it’s to the sound of a heartbeat-like thrumming that seems to radiate from his very being, something comforting that you’ve never heard before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the part of the show where Meeko finally starts working towards the Real Actual Plot That She's Been Planning This Whole Time™️.  
> This counts as Monday's chapter. I'll see you on Thursday with more fun stuff!  
> [Tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)


	32. The Underground (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Reader finally apologizes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't gone to sleep yet. It's not Friday until I wake up.

You feel numb when you wake up, tangled in a mess of blankets and sheets, clutching the pillow Sans had used tightly to your chest. It takes you a long moment to register that he’s not in the bed with you anymore, and you miss his comforting warmth. You wait a moment, half hoping that he’ll come back and crawl into bed again so you can try to sleep more. You feel exhausted. When he doesn’t come, you sigh, sitting up and electing to take in the sights of the room. There’s piles of socks everywhere, a mess of clothes on the floor in front of the open dresser (are those instruments shoved in the drawers instead..?), and some kind of tornado in the corner at the foot of the bed filled with trash and what looks like old spaghetti. You try not to focus on that.

You get out of bed when you decide that Sans isn’t coming back to bed and stoop to pick his jacket up off of the floor. You put it back on and head towards the open door, figuring he might have just gone downstairs. From what you can see from the second story landing, though, you don’t think he’s in the house at all. You descend the stairs and take up your seat from last night, pushing the puke can away from you with your foot. The metal is cold on your bare toes. You take the time to look around and take in the layers of dust covering most of the surfaces. It’s already fallen on your shoes, you notice. You pick them up and dust them off with your hand before just dropping them on the floor.

You’re alone for only a few more minutes before the front door’s lock clicks and a rush of cold air signals that the door is open. You look up to see Sans coming through, kicking snow off of his slippers and looking almost surprised to see you downstairs. He holds up two grease stained paper bags as he shuts the door behind him, giving you a small grin.

“thought you could use somethin’,” he says as he wanders over. He leaves his slippers by the door, approaching you in only his socks. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him without some kind of slipper or shoe.

“Thanks,” you murmur, taking one of the bags from him as he sets the other down on the table and turns his chair to face it. You move so that you can face the table as well, removing the burger and fries from the bag and flattening the bag to use it as some kind of makeshift plate. You’re not sure that you want your food touching the dusty surface.

Looking down at the fries, your stomach twinges. You’re not sure you’ll be able to keep it down.

“it’s, uh, monster food,” he tells you. “you probably won’t puke it up if you eat slow.”

You nod. You didn’t think he would think that far ahead.

“Thanks,” you say again.

There’s a long moment of silence, filled with nothing but you poking at your fries and not actually eating, and Sans watching you closely. You look at him from the corner of your eye, and he turns his attention down to his food. He decides to eat. You manage a couple of fries before the smell starts to make you sick, though that could also be the unsettlingly strong fizzle of magic in your stomach - you’re used to small amounts every once in a while, when Sans and Papyrus wind up staying for dinner at Toriel’s or you get a drink at Grillby’s besides water. A handful of fries has made you feel like you’ve taken four or five shots of whatever Grillby has that has the highest magic concentration.

“you, uh, feelin’ any better?” he asks, breaking the silence. You can feel how nervous he is as much as you can feel the chair you’re sitting on.

“A little,” you say, and you think it’s the truth. “I’m just having a hard time eating.”

“a lot more magic than you’re used to, huh?” he murmurs. “i thought so. but i’m gonna make you eat it all eventually.”

“You can’t force me to eat.”

“the magic’ll make you feel better.” He looks back to his own half-eaten meal. “it’ll help mine come back a bit faster, too.”

“That’s good.”

You’re not sure what else to say. You don’t really think that you have anything to say at all. Sans goes back to eating, not looking at you anymore. You figure that since the two of you are stuck down here, there’s no way for either of you to avoid having conversations that should have been had a while ago. You suck in a breath and prepare yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you say, looking back down at the table.

A long pause. “for what, kid?”

“For dumping hot coffee on you.”

“It’s ok,” he says. “though you might’a wanted to listen to me before you did that.”

“I know.”

“i’m sorry that i, uh, gave you reason to think i might do that again.”

You look over at him. “You’re saying you’re sorry for biting me?”

“no, i’m not sorry about doing it in the first place,” he says. That leaves a weird feeling in your gut, but then again, that could also be the magic food. “i’m not gonna lie to you about that. but i am sorry that you have to be scared that i’ll do it again.”

You inspect a small tear at the opening of your bag. “Would you?”

“what, do it again?” You nod. “no. there’s too much shit goin’ on.”

You’re relieved. While you know he probably will never apologize for biting you, you also know you can’t stay mad at him about it forever. It’s exactly as he said - there’s too much shit going on for problems between the two of you to get in the way of taking care of the bigger picture. You’ll just have to shove it aside and forgive him. Both of you will be better off that way.

“I forgive you,” you say, trying to vocalize your thoughts. He gives you an odd look, but stays silent, like head expecting you to continue talking. “For doing it in the first place, and for making me scared that you'll do it again,” you explain.

“i didn't apologize for--”

“I know. But I'm saying I won't stay mad about it.”

He visibly relaxes, then grunts and goes back to eating. You've said about all you needed to, so you turn your attention back to your food as well. You left the burger wrapped up, and it’s probably going to stay that way for a while. If the fries are giving you such a hard time, you’re not so sure that something more complex will be any easier on you. You’re already feeling a little light headed. You wonder if Sans would eat it if you gave it to him. He normally doesn't eat much, but then again, you've also never seen him having issues with his magic.

You push it towards him with the back of your hand, catching him from the corner of your eye as he stops mid-bite to look at you. He raises a brow bone at you and sets his own burger down.

“what’re you doin’?”

“You said it’ll help bring your magic back.”

“kid, that’s yours. i told you you’re gonna have to eat it all.”

“Sans, I can barely handle the fries,” you tell him, finally looking over at him. He looks almost annoyed. “It’ll help your magic come back.”

“that may be so, but…” He sighs. “kid, you need to eat it. for your strength.”

“I don’t think I could eat meat right now,” you bark back. You shove the images of the cult gathering as far down into your mind as you can. “Or anything that looks like meat. Or smells like it. The fries are bad enough.”

He shakes his head and says nothing as he goes back to finishing off his food. You lean back in your chair and look down at your folded hands in your lap.

“we’ll, uh, hold onto it. see if you’re hungry later,” he says, his voice relaying that he’s made his decision and there’s no arguing. “it won’t spoil or anything, so don’t worry about putting it in the fridge unless you want a cold burger.”

“This room is cold enough to be its own refrigerator,” you comment. He snorts.

“sorry.”

Your hands retreat into the pockets of his hoodie, and you take this time to remove the offending empty ketchup packets that you found yesterday from the pockets. He just stares at them for a long moment before shrugging and picking up his trash. You put your food back in the bag and leave it on the table. Even if you don’t end up wanting it later - you’re _really_ sure that you’re not going to - then you can make him eat it at the very least. You’d think that he would want his magic to come back sooner rather than later so that the two of you can get the hell out of the Underground.

“Did you call Toriel while you were out?” you ask him. “Would a call from here even reach her?”

“no, i didn’t, and yes, it would,” he tells you. “she’s got a monster tech phone, i’ve got a monster tech phone. we don’t exactly run offa human cell towers.”

“That’s kind of cool.”

“i’ll call her now.” He fishes his phone from his shorts pocket. “uh, i’ll leave it on speaker, i guess.”

You figure that’s a good idea, since Toriel will want to talk to you as well once she hears what happened. Sans selects her from his contacts and scoots his chair a little closer to yours as he sets it to speaker and holds it somewhere between you. You turn yourself so that you’re facing each other.

Toriel picks up, and there’s immediate yelling on the other end.

_“Sans! Where in the world--? Are you alright? Why have I not heard from you? What happened to--?”_

“she’s ok. she’s with me,” he cuts in before she can continue. You hear her heave a heavy breath.

_“And where is ‘with you’?”_

“uh. snowdin.”

_“You WHAT.”_

“tori, calm down, we just, the ground, it caved, we--”

“Toriel, it’s okay,” you say. Your voice is surprisingly level for the level of anxiety you’ve had since yesterday. “I made Sans take me with to the cult meeting. We convinced Frisk to cover for me. I shouldn’t have done that. But what we saw… Froggit Face, he destroyed his own cult. Literally. He blew them all up.”

_“He blew them up?”_

“explosives, tor.”

“They’re all dead. Except him. Even my dad is--”

Sans puts his free hand on your knee, which is enough to silence you if the lump in your throat isn’t.

“she fell. the ground was unstable and she went out to find her dad. i was able to teleport down and get her and keep her from falling too far.”

_“And why in the world didn’t you just teleport back here once the explosives started going off?”_

“i _tried_ , toriel,” Sans says, nearly growling, his tone extremely defensive. “it’s like there was some kind of block on my magic. it’s still not all the way back.”

Toriel sighs. _“Okay. I will speak with Asgore and we will take action where we can at once. The two of you take your time coming back. Thank you for telling me that you are safe. Everyone is worried.”_

“if something happens, we’ll call again,” Sans says, and the line goes dead.

He looks up at you, his eye lights searching your face, and he squeezes your knee where his hand rests.

“you gonna be ok?”

You nod a little, take a deep breath. You’re okay. Sans is here and none of the things that plagued your nightmares are here. You lean forward, resting your forehead on his clavicle, much in the way that you did last night, but this time without the tears. He offers two short pats on your shoulder as he removes his hand from your knee and clears his nonexistent throat.

“uh. ok. well. i have a little work i wanna get done while we’re down here,” he goes on. “uh, i’ll be in the basement. you might wanna try sleeping.”

You don’t want to be alone.

“I want to come with you,” you tell him.

He pauses. “i don’t know how comfortable i am with that,” he tells you.

You lean back and just look at him. He sighs and stands.

“you ok to go outside for a sec?” he asks. You nod. “ok. fine. you can come with.”

You retrieve your shoes and socks, pulling them onto your feet. They’re still pretty damp, but you figure that once you come back inside, you can take them off again. He stands as well and takes you over to the front door. He waits for you for a second before opening it and leading you outside. You make sure to pull the hood over your head before you follow him.

He leads you around the back of the house. There’s a step down before there’s a heavy looking door. He fishes a silver key from his pocket and unlocks it, pushing the door open and stepping aside so that you can go in first. You take the stairs down into a dark room.

You don’t like this one bit.

You can feel Sans behind you, and he reaches past you to flick on the light switch beside you. Fluorescent lights come on one at a time, illuminating a small room with white from floor to ceiling. There’s a dark blue tarp thrown over something in the left corner, next to a counter space cut into the wall with drawers lining the sides of it. He shuts the door behind you and moves over to where the tarp is. He pulls a toolbox off of the counter and starts pulling at the tarp.

“just, uh, don’t touch anything,” he tells you. “sit up on the counter or somethin’.”

You take your shoes and socks off - two minutes outside made your feet frozen once again, considering there was no path made out to the back of the house - and hoist yourself up onto the counter like he told you to. You watch him take the tarp off of what looks like some kind of giant computer and shove the tarp in the corner. He slips on a lab coat that was hanging from a hook near the door and returns to the machine. He looks like a little scientist.

Then again, he was, wasn’t he? Or at least, he had told you that he had worked with the old royal scientist.

“What’s that do?” you ask him after a little while, attempting to fill the silence. He looks up at you from where he’s tinkering in the bottom panel of the machine.

“it, uh, was somethin’ i used in training a long time ago,” he tells you. You get the feeling that he’s not giving you the whole story.

“Did you make it?”

“no, but i helped.”

“What’s it do?” you repeat.

“you know how i can teleport?” You nod. “you ever see another monster do that?” You think for a moment. You really haven’t. You shake your head. “exactly. this was an experiment, to make it so that i could ‘port whenever, to anywhere i wanted.”

“I thought you couldn’t do long distances at a time?”

“it, uh, broke before we could fully complete the training.” He shrugs, then goes back to rewiring the bottom panel. “what it does is kinda loosens up the void, makes it easier for me to puncture it and jump through. we would turn down how much help it gave me until i could jump through without it on at all. never reached the ending we wanted, though.”

He gives you a wide-socketed look, as if he said too much. You don’t see how this information could cause any harm in your hands.

“That’s pretty cool,” you say. “Do you mind me asking what the ending you wanted was?”

He shrugs, takes a moment to look around. “don’t remember.”

You stare at him for a long moment. “Sans, I don’t believe you.”

“you don’t have to. it don’t matter, kid.”

You decide not to push it any farther. He’s starting to sound a little defensive, like he wants to avoid the topic. You settle for watching him. You spend more time than you’d normally like listening to him fumble with wires and curse under his breath, saying something about needing his blueprints if he’s going to fix it.

“Hey Sans?”

He hums.

“Why do you need to fix it?” you ask. It’s been nearly half an hour and you think it’s a good time to start asking questions again. “So you can reach the ending you wanted?”

He draws in a long breath. “yeah, somethin’ like that.”

You can feel the air becoming heavy, even though he’s scooting away from the machine and looking up at it.

“somethin’ ain’t right,” he murmurs. “kid, the void, it feels… like the machine is turned on.”

“Is it fixed?” you ask.

“no way in hell,” he tells you. “this thing’s been broken for a long ass time. it’s nowhere near working condition.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooooOOOOHHH SHIT.  
> -stares into the void-  
> [Tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)


	33. Revival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Papyrus' dreams come true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Edit:** I took out a fragment of a sentence that was meant to be deleted but apparently wasn't.

Sans has been frantically searching through the drawers beneath the countertop you’re perched on, muttering something to himself about notes, blueprints, _anything_ that couldn’t have been stolen a while back when he came back screaming about his things being missing. From what you can see, the machine is definitely not on. There’s no lights or whirring sounds like you would expect. The only sound is that of Sans’ cursing under his breath.

“we gotta get back to the surface,” he tells you, his voice laced with an angry urgency that almost sounds like you’re what he’s upset with. “i gotta talk to alphys. maybe she can help. maybe she and i can figure out whatever the fuck is goin’ on. humans say somethin’ about two heads being better, right?”

“We can’t go anywhere if you can’t teleport,” you remind him.

“we can walk. out through the castle, where monsters came out originally.”

“And how long is that going to take?” you ask.

He thinks for a long moment. “it’ll take longer than it would for my magic to come back.” He sounds defeated. “just… kid, i can’t just sit here. we gotta get back up to the surface.”

You think for a moment. If this is as urgent as he thinks it is, then there has to be some sort of logical solution. He can’t teleport because it takes a lot of magic to do, and he doesn’t have that much extra magic right now. Walking out of the Underground would take a long time, and time is another thing that you don’t have. There has to be _something_ that can be done, something much simpler than it should be.

Oh.

“You said it feels like the machine is turned on,” you state. Sans looks back at you with an almost pained expression. “That means it’ll be easier for you to teleport, right? What with making the void or whatever easier to puncture. So it shouldn’t take as much magic.”

His eye sockets go completely dark.

“why the fuck didn’t i think ‘a that?” he mutters. “i mean, it has its risks, but, uh, it’ll work.” He offers you a nervous grin.

“Eat that other burger first.”

He snorts, but doesn’t respond, stooping to pick up your shoes and socks. Instead, he helps you down from the counter and pulls you in close, more like a hug that what he normally does while teleporting. You barely feel the buildup of magic around you before you’re jolted through an infinite, empty black space that feels like the space behind your eyelids and the building blocks for nightmares. You stumble, lightheaded again, as you end up at Toriel’s doorstep. That was definitely different than it usually is, much quicker and a little scarier. Sans doesn’t look like he’s doing too well, either. You’ve never seen him stumble out of a teleport before, but he does, releasing you as the world around you comes into focus. The two of you take the step up and let yourselves in.

There’s idle chattering inside, nervous and unsure. You can feel the anxiety in the air. Sans gives you a look and drops your shoes and socks on the floor so that they make a loud noise. Everyone goes quiet. You hear the footsteps on hardwood that you’ve grown to immediately recognize as Toriel’s (light and quiet, but with a sound that is in some ways very similar to a dog’s paws) begin to approach. Sans keeps an arm looped with yours, shutting the door behind the two of you.

Toriel comes around the corner, an apprehensive expression covering her face, but immediately relaxes when she sees you. “Oh, you’re back!” she exclaims, rushing forward to pull the both of you tightly against her. You feel squished and a little too warm. Sans’ hoodie was nice while you were in the snowy, cold Underground, but isn’t so much while against a furry boss monster. She takes a step back from you, looking down at the both of you with a relieved expression. Both of her hands raise, and you’re both rewarded with a swift smack upside the head. “Do not _ever_ do something like that again! Sans, you should know better than to endanger someone else. And _you_ ,” she says, levelling a finger with your nose, pointing at you, “I _never_ want to hear of you disobeying me again. I know that you are an adult, but you are still my child, and you are still living under my roof. If I want to keep you locked away for your safety, I expect that you will comply.”

You flinch back a little under her harsh gaze. “I-I’m sorry.”

“be easy on her,” Sans cuts in. “it was my fault. i shouldn’t have let her convince me. but she’s seen enough shit to make her regret it for a while.”

Toriel almost immediately looks guilty for reprimanding you. You shrug.

“Watch your language,” she scolds him, “and join the rest of us in the kitchen. We have just finished discussing our course of action with Undyne.”

Sans kicks off his slippers and starts into the kitchen. You stay close at his heels. Toriel’s version of “we” is absolutely everyone aside from Alphys. You figure she still has a lot of work she needs to get done, but this definitely hinders Sans getting to her quickly. Papyrus and Undyne rush up to you immediately, the taller skeleton interrupting his brother’s walk into the kitchen by scooping him up into an embrace. It’s almost comical, watching Sans being lifted into the air like a small child.

“SANS! DO NOT EVER DISAPPEAR WITHOUT A WORD AGAIN!” he scolds, his voice echoing. You wonder if the entirety of Snowdin would have been able to hear him when they lived Underground.

“sorry, bro,” Sans murmurs, and he actually sounds sorry. He clings to his brother and lets himself just be held off of the ground. He reminds you a little bit of a baby koala.

“So, kids,” Undyne starts. Her tone of voice worries you a little. “What’d you two do while you were all alone in the skeleton house Underground, huh? Anything interesting? Anything _lewd_?”

Sans jolts away from where he rested his chin on his brother’s shoulder, looking back at Undyne with an expression made of annoyance and darkened eye sockets.

“you really think that would’a been the first thing on my mind?”

“Undyne, please don’t,” you plead.

“Well, I just figured that, you know, since you’re wearing his hoodie and all, something had to have happened,” she teases. “You never take that thing off. Who knows when the last time it was washed was?”

“THE OTHER DAY, ACTUALLY,” Papyrus supplies, setting his brother down. Undyne elbows him.

“Papyrus,” she hisses.

“WHAT?”

“Nothing happened,” you say, a little bitter. “We’re just tired and unhappy and that’s about it. I slept and ate french fries. That’s about it.”

Undyne makes a face. “You could have played along, you know.”

“where’s alphys?” Sans asks her.

“Oh, yeah, I was gonna ask about the sciencey getup. She’s working right now.”

“where?”

“The university?” She furrows her brow. “Why, what’s up?”

“just need her help. with some ‘sciencey’ stuff.” He shrugs. “you know, only super important.”

“She’s busy. You might have to wait until later. Or tonight. She’s got a lot going on.”

Sans grunts. “this is bigger than some university project, undyne. you wouldn’t understand.”

“SANS NEVER SHARES HOW IMPORTANT HIS SCIENCEY STUFF IS,” Papyrus interjects just as Undyne looks ready to snap. “IF IT IS SO IMPORTANT THAT HE WOULD WANT TO SHARE IT WITH HER, ESPECIALLY SINCE THEIR SCIENCEY RELATIONSHIP IS SO ROCKY, THEN MAYBE IT _IS_ MORE IMPORTANT THAN WHATEVER IT IS SHE IS WORKING ON.”

Sans looks at his brother with admiration, then back to Undyne. She pinches the bridge of her nose between her eyes and sighs. “Yeah, okay, just call her first, okay? If she’s too busy to answer the phone, then don’t bother going to see her.”

“i can agree to that,” Sans replies. He looks at you for a moment before walking off, pulling his phone from his shorts pocket as he goes. He’s out of sight before he signals that someone answered his call.

“Did you really just sleep and eat french fries? That’s it?” Undyne asks, her voice lowered. She looks a little disappointed.

“Yes,” you assure her. “Didn’t even sleep that well. I had a lot of nightmares.”

“SANS HAS A LOT OF NIGHTMARES, TOO,” Papyrus says. “SOMETIMES BAD ENOUGH TO WHERE I NEED TO LAY WITH HIM UNTIL HE FALLS BACK ASLEEP AND STAYS ASLEEP.”

“He stayed with me,” you say quietly. Maybe Papyrus helping him explains why Sans stayed with you all night, keeping you company and making sure that you knew you were safe and that you knew where you were when you woke up. Maybe that’s what Papyrus does for him.

“DID HE STROKE YOUR SKULL AND TELL YOU THAT EVERYTHING IS OKAY?”

“I, uh, pretty much,” you say. “More like my hair, my skull isn’t exactly exposed.”

Papyrus places his hands on his hips and huffs with satisfaction. “GOOD! THAT’S WHAT WORKS FOR HIM, SO HE MUST HAVE KNOWN IT WOULD WORK FOR YOU, TOO!”

Undyne looks amused, her gaze flicking between you and Papyrus. She pats your shoulder and hums. Sans returns, shoving his phone back in his pocket, and looks to you as he arrives back at your side. He takes you by the arm and pulls you aside, away from Papyrus and Undyne.

“i’m, uh, heading over,” he tells you. “she’s gonna see if she can help me figure this out. just do me a favor and don’t tell anyone about it, ok?”

“Why not?”

“kid, nobody is gonna know or care why this is so important,” he says. His words make you shudder.

“Uh, okay then,” you say. “I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

“good.”

“You want your hoodie back?”

He looks at you for a long moment, then shakes his head. “i’ll come back for it.”

“Okay.” He releases you and heads for the door, shoving his feet in his slippers before disappearing. Watching him teleport makes your head hurt.

“What was that about?” Undyne asks, settling in at your side again, making you jump. You didn’t hear her approach.

“He was just letting me know that he was leaving,” you say.

“The only person he ever tells when he’s leaving is his brother,” she comments.

“Undyne, nothing happened.”

“But something will. I’m betting on it. You’re Alphys’ OTP.”

You grimace, but you have to admit, it’s kind of cute. It’s too bad that you’re too emotionally exhausted to engage in playful banter with her like you normally would. You manage to smile up at her before you head into the kitchen to see Toriel and Asgore. Frisk looks up from their seat at the table, looking a little bitter, but they brighten when they see you. Before you’re even three feet away from the table, you have a small child attached to you, their face buried in your stomach. You do what you can as far as hugging them back. Asgore looks at you from his seat at the head of the table, his expression that of a monarch making a decision. Toriel is busying herself in the kitchen, probably making tea. Undyne takes a seat at the table across from where you normally sit and gestures for you to join her. You pry Frisk off of you and take them back to the table, sitting right next to them. Papyrus joins as well, setting Flowey in the center of the table. He must have gone to get him. The flower looks at you and, for once, doesn’t hiss. Instead, he almost looks relieved.

“Do your best to drink this,” Toriel tells you, setting a cup of tea in front of you. “You, look, well…”

“You look like shit, punk,” Undyne cuts in.

“Language!” Toriel chastises her. “But yes, my child, you do not look well at all.”

“I feel the same as I look,” you tell them.

“Please talk to us more about what happened,” Asgore urges as Toriel sits beside him. “We heard very little from your phone call. We want to know as much as possible before we go to investigate.”

“Uh. Well.” You don’t know that you want to do this without Sans here to fill in the details when you can’t, but you know that you don’t have a choice. This isn’t about you. “Sans and I went to the clearing at the base of the mountain and hid. We were just going to… listen in? I guess? Their leader, Froggit Face, talked about forcing monsters back Underground. He said something about a master plan, but nobody seemed too sure about that. Then he started talking about how my dad had doubted them and wouldn’t help anymore because of me, and then said that he had a plan for everyone that doubted him. He said that he couldn’t pick out who exactly was against him and he just, um, blew everyone up.”

“Blew everyone up?” Undyne echoes. You nod.

“I’m serious. Explosives across the clearing. Sans had a hard time teleporting to get us away from it,” you explain. “He said that it felt like there was some kind of block on his magic. But, uh, then, there was, um… I just wanted to see if my dad… He didn’t. He was dead, too. Everyone was. It was…” You lean back in your chair, holding your hand over your mouth, suppressing a gag. You can feel the bile rising in your throat at the thought. “A-anyways, the explosions must have made the ground unstable, because when I went out there, even though Sans told me not to, I fell. The ground just gave way and the next thing I knew, we were in Snowdin.”

“Why would someone destroy their entire army?” Asgore asks, more to the air than anything else. You try to sip at the tea. It’s warm and tingles at your throat, and that warmth has nothing to do with its actual temperature. You’re sure that Toriel infused it with some kind of magic. It doesn’t make you feel queasy in the slightest.

“The better question is, why didn’t he just weed out those against him?” Undyne says. “It couldn’t have been that many, not with how against monsters these people are. They’re violent and kind of insane. The only reason I can think of as to why he would get rid of everyone instead of the select few is that it’ll be easier for him to do what he’s trying to do by himself, without anyone to get in his way.”

“But if his plan is only to force monsters back Underground,” Toriel says, “then perhaps it would have been easier to keep his army?”

“When he mentioned the master plan, nobody seemed to even know what he was talking about,” you say. “I think Undyne is right. I think what he really wants to do is gonna be easier if he’s on his own.”

“Undyne,” Asgore starts. “How would you feel about reforming the Royal Guard?”

Papyrus lights up.

“Of course, it would consist of stealth missions and things that the human government may be against, but that is where Toriel and I come in,” he goes on. “We will speak with the human government and see what we can agree to cooperate on.”

“But if they don’t like the idea of helping us hunt down a renegade cult leader?” Undyne presses.

“Then we will take matters into our own hands,” Toriel says. “I feel silly being so dramatic about one person, but if he is crazy enough to destroy half of the town, then I genuinely fear what he may do when not tied down by responsibility.”

“I’ll have to get back into contact with the rest of the former Guard, but…” She looks over to Papyrus. “Papyrus, my favorite sentry, how would you feel about being a full-fledged Guardsman?”

You think Papyrus might faint with how fast he’s nodding. He doesn’t seem to be able to speak.

“Okay, what about my right hand skeleton?”

“I-IS THAT? LIKE? VICE CAPTAIN?”

“Yes, Papyrus. I want you to be my vice captain for this.”

“The Guard will be disbanded once this is resolved,” Asgore says, but the two seem to be in their own bubble.

“YES? I MEAN, Y-YES! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WOULD BE HONORED TO SERVE AS YOUR VICE CAPTAIN OF THE ROYAL GUARD!”

Undyne’s grin surely can’t become any wider. Neither could Papyrus’. Undyne slams her hands down on the table.

“ALRIGHT! Then you and I have some work to do! I kept track of where everyone from the guard ended up after we moved surface-side. We’ll have to make some calls and do some visiting, some convincing… And some making sure that they’re gonna obey you, since you’ll be in charge when I’m out hunting down people for the human police.”

“I-IN CHARGE?”

“When I’m not around. It’s all part of being vice cap, Pap.”

Papyrus truly looks like a kid in a candy store. He’s vibrating in his seat. Frisk gives him a thumbs up, and even Flowey gives him some words of encouragement. You forgot that the flower got along with Papyrus.

“I will work to set up a meeting,” Toriel says, standing once the two members of the revived Royal Guard bolt from the house, shouting goodbyes before slamming the door shut. “Please continue to work with Frisk on their lessons. I will give Sans a call and let him know what is going on.”

“He was going to stop by later, I think,” you say. “I’ll tell him what’s going on.”

She smiles at you, then motions for Asgore to stand as well. “Then we will leave it to you,” she says. “I fully intend for him to get his rest and do what he sees fit, but he is not to interfere with the Guard, nor take matters into his own hands.”

“You want him to sit back on this one?”

“Yes, that is precisely it.”

You sigh. Sans isn’t going to like that much, but you know it’s for the better. Toriel is upset with him as it is.

“Be sure to finish your tea. Do not get up from the table until it is gone, then go get some rest. Frisk, do not roughhouse with her too much.”

Frisk makes a face of mock disappointment, but moves from their chair and takes Flowey upstairs. They don’t come back, even though both you and the monster monarchy wait for them for a moment.

“We will return later. Please take care.”

Once you’re alone, you sigh. At least there’s the beginnings of a plan of action to bring Froggit Face down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus, Vice Captain of the Royal Guard.  
> -sniff- I'm so proud of my boy.  
> [Tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)


	34. Chicken Noodle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Reader gets a visit from a pal.

Frisk doesn’t come downstairs after Toriel leaves. You think that maybe they got in trouble and they’re going to blame you for it. Honestly, you’re okay with that. It didn’t take much to convince them to cover for you, but you shouldn’t have tried to convince them in the first place. Everything would be so much simpler if you had just stayed in your room like Toriel had told you. Still, this makes you more or less alone in the house, left to your own devices to entertain yourself. That’s perfectly fine with you, though - you’re not really up for much aside from hanging out on the couch. That’s where you find yourself, perched in your usual corner of the sofa, the TV displaying some MTT-brand cooking challenge. You’re pretty sure that most of the shows on TV are being slowly replaced by Mettaton’s renditions of them. He’s just as popular on the surface as Papyrus had said he had been in the Underground, if not even more so. His rise to surface stardom had been an extremely quick one.

Still, you’re pretty bored. You find yourself flicking through channels, checking your phone for messages that never come (and why would they? All of your friends are busy right now). You feel so… unproductive. You absently start scrolling through job listings online while most of your attention is still focused on Mettaton’s ridiculous spotlight antics. You’re not even really looking, and going through the motions doesn’t make you feel any better at all. You’re not sure why you still do it. 

Eventually, your phone does go off. It startles you, the vibration in your hand almost making you drop it. You gather your composure and find yourself reading texts from Spencer, spaced out over the last few seconds.

**Spencer (3:12pm): Hi howdy hey**

**Spencer (3:12pm): What are you up to?**

**Spencer (3:12pm): I was thinking, if you’re not busy, maybe we could go do something?**

**Spencer (3:13pm): You know, maybe not Mettaton themed this time?**

You snort, glancing back up at your Mettaton themed show. The last time you saw Spencer was at Mettaton’s after party for that one show he did. You don’t think it was actually that long ago, now that you’re thinking about it. He did mention another “date”, albeit in a joking tone. You didn’t expect him to actually follow up on it. Even though you’re bored out of your mind, though, you can’t leave the house. Not that you would want to if you could. You’re still feeling like complete shit.

**You (3:14pm): Maybe another time. I’m not feeling that well.**

You almost feel like you’re being rude with that, but you can’t be bothered to care right now. You turn your attention back to the TV and only tear your eyes away from it when your phone goes off once more.

**Spencer (3:23pm): Not feeling well? What if I brought you some soup?**

You sigh. You didn’t think he would be all that persistent. 

**You (3:24pm): You don’t know where I live.**

**Spencer (3:24pm): An address plugged into my GPS could fix that real quick~**

You hum, thinking. You don’t think that Toriel would get upset if your friend brought you soup. She would probably invite him to stay for dinner if she came back while he was there. Fine, you decide. The company would be kind of nice, especially with Frisk completely ignoring you. Maybe listening to him talk about his latest adventures alongside Nolan and Kendra will keep your mind off of the undesirable topics coming about as of late. You send him the address, and he promises to be there soon. Fine, that’s fine. You keep yourself focused on the TV.

Quite a bit of time passes. You’re not sure that he’s even going to show up after about an hour of waiting. Then again, you don’t think Spencer would be the type to say he’s on his way and then not show up at all. You feel like no matter what he did, you could probably forgive him. He’s just too sweet. 

You move when the front door’s bell rings, which is an interesting sound. You rarely hear that; the guests that frequent this house all have their own keys, so even if the door’s locked, they can let themselves in. Toriel is extremely trusting of her friends. You open the door to reveal the blond pal who is literally the only person you could be expecting right about now.

“Wow, when you said you weren’t feeling good, you weren’t kidding,” he says. His awe sounds a little forced. He’s messing around.

“I’m fully aware of how shitty I look,” you reply. “Come in. I would take your shoes off at the door.”

He kicks off his sneakers and looks around, his eyes flicking over every surface as if trying to memorize the home. You lead him into the living room and take up residence on the couch once more.

“Hope you don’t mind, I’ve just been sitting around watching MTT,” you tell him. 

“That’s okay, I’m good with sitting around and talking, even if it does involve Mettaton again,” he says with a wink, sitting near you. In the back of your head, something says no, that’s Sans’ spot. 

Sans isn’t here and it’s just a couch cushion.

“Oh, here,” he goes on, handing you a large, army-green thermos. You open it up. The smell of chicken noodle soup fills the air. “I, uh, made it last night. You’re lucky! It always tastes better the next day.”

“Thank you,” you murmur. You put the cap back on it and set the thing on the floor next to the couch. “I’ll eat some later. I’m not all that hungry right now.” 

He beams at you, resting his arm along the back of the couch. “So, what’s new in the world of you? How’s Sans?”

“Sans is… good,” you say tentatively. “Things are good. Okay. They’re okay.”

He tilts his head. “Doesn’t sound too good to me, there, bud. You two fight?”

“No?” You hate that it came out as a question. “We just worked through some things. Friends are allowed to disagree once in a while.” You refuse to admit that most of the tension between the two of you can be completely chalked up to Sans leaving that mark on your neck. That’s something you’d rather not tell him. 

“At least things are going well,” he says. “Did you, uh, hear about those explosions near Mt. Ebott? Nobody’s really sure what’s going on yet, but--”

“Next subject,” you cut in. He gives you an odd look. “I just… I’m a little worried about it. I’d rather focus on happy things. Or fun things. Or things you’ve been doing with Nolan and Kendra.”

He seems to brighten up immediately, much in the same way that Papyrus did when Undyne gave him his new position. “Things have been fun! Kendra’s been kind of busy, but Nolan and I have been spending all kinds of quality time together, like almost every day. I think he’s really opening up to me. I think he’s my new best friend.”

“That’s exciting,” you encourage. 

If this were Papyrus talking, you’d be seeing the bright, literal stars dancing around his eye sockets. It’s pretty endearing, actually. He’s like a little kid right now.

“Shit, ah fuck, I should have brought my camera! I didn’t think to.” He hangs his head for a moment, obviously disappointed in himself. “Remind me to bring it by next time. Or my laptop. Everything is uploaded to that almost immediately so I don’t have to worry about running out of space on my card.”

“I’ll remind you,” you tell him. 

There’s a short bout of silence between the two of you. You’ve never really talked to each other for this long, not without someone else to help facilitate conversation. 

“So, what’s Nolan up to that made you come to me instead?” you ask.

He shrugs. “I don’t know, I haven’t talked to him yet today,” he says. “I’m trying to broaden my horizons a little bit, you know? I thought today might be a good day to try to get to know you better. Too bad you’re sick. I had some fun planned.”

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I’ve also got Frisk to watch today, so even if I weren’t sick, I’d still have to be watching them.”

“Tyke’s upstairs?”

You nod. “I think they’re a little upset with me right now,” you admit.

“Aw, what’d you do? Take their toy?”

You snort. “Frisk isn’t  _ that _ little. No, I take care of their school lessons, and they didn’t like me for that so much this morning.”

You feel bad lying, but you definitely don’t think it’s a good idea to talk about how you convinced an eight year old child to cover your tracks while you snuck out with a skeleton to observe a cult meeting, especially not to someone you barely know. You repeat that in your head a few times - you barely know him - before you look over and give him a weak smile. 

“Poor kid. You’re probably the worst teacher in the world.” There’s that teasing tone again.

“No, I’d like to think that I’m pretty okay at it,” you shoot back, feigning offense.

“Still, though, I’m a little surprised to see you babysitting while you’re sick,” he goes on. “What’s wrong with you anyways? A cold? Should I be concerned?”

Seeing as how you’re not actually sick, just absolutely shaken and worse for the wear in general, you shake your head. “Nothing contagious. It’s just a cold that’s about over with.”

“That would explain why you’re not all stuffy,” he says. He seems to be examining your face. “But really, shouldn’t someone be home with you? What about Sans? I always thought he didn’t do much during the day.”

“He’s at work,” you say. “Everyone is, actually. Normally Toriel is home, but she had some stuff she had to help Asgore with.”

“Who’re they?”

“Toriel and Asgore?” You raise a brow at him. “The queen and king of monsters?”

“Oh! Oh, shit. Okay. I didn’t know you lived with royalty.” He grins. “Does that make you a princess?”

“That makes me their live-in houseguest,” you say, and you can hear the small amount of bitterness lining your words. 

It’s his turn to raise a brow. “You’re… mooching?”

“What? No, no, I’m not,” you say, probably a little too quickly. You let out a slow breath. It’s been a while since you’ve actually talked about any of this with anyone. “She had me move in after the cult broke into my apartment. You know what I’m talking about, right? That anti-monster cult?”

He nods slowly. “Yeah, I’ve heard of ‘em. Who hasn’t?”

“Anyways, they broke into my apartment a while back. Toriel had me come stay here, and when the school found out that it was becoming less temporary, I got fired.”

“School?”

“The elementary school. I was Frisk’s translator. They’re deaf. That’s how I met these guys in the first place,” you explain. “So the school freaked out about it and fired me. Toriel pulled Frisk from the school because she didn’t like how they handled things and because she wanted Frisk to continue to work with me. I’m supposed to start up student teaching again in the fall, it’s already mostly set up.”

“But until then, you’re mooching?” He’s back to teasing, even though you can tell he’s being a little careful about it. 

You lightly smack his arm. “No, I’m not,” you say. “I’ve been looking for a new apartment, looking for a new job. Toriel is just really against me moving out while the cult stuff is so bad.” You don’t want to say that the entirety of the cult is gone, save its leader, because Spencer doesn’t seem to know what happened at the base of the mountain, based on his words earlier. 

“Such a noble story,” he coos, leaning back into the couch. You didn’t notice him leaning forward when you started talking. “You know, I admire you, always sticking up for them and refusing to leave them. Your monster friends, I mean. It doesn’t scare you that you’ve been targeted just for hanging around them?”

“It scares the hell out of me,” you tell him. “My dad asked me a couple of times if I would abandon them if things got too bad, and sometimes, I think that it’s a possibility. I really don’t want to, but I’m scared of getting in the way. I’m scared of making things worse for them.”

“I don’t think you would,” he tells you, draping an arm around your shoulders and giving you some kind of sitting side-hug that you’re sure is meant to be reassuring. “They love you and want to protect you, from what I’m understanding. Let them do that, and let them know that you’re here to love them and protect them, too. Okay?”

“Okay,” you say. You lean your head against his arm a little. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

He’s really warm. And not too uncomfortable to lean on. You could probably take a nap here. Would that be weird? But there  _ is _ such thing as platonic cuddling, so maybe it wouldn’t be too weird. You let your eyes close. If he gets weirded out, you can apologize and chalk it up to being tired from being sick.

“th’ fuck’s going on here?”

You jolt, looking up to see a not too happy Sans. That’s actually an understatement. He looks pretty pissed.

“Hey, Sans,” Spencer says. He sounds like he’s been sleeping, too. You look past Sans at the time on the cable box. You’ve been out for a couple of hours. 

“i wasn’t askin’ you,” the skeleton growls, giving Spencer a look that makes him go rigid. 

“He came over to see me. I fell asleep and I guess he did, too,” you say. It really is that simple. 

“A-am I overstepping? I didn’t know that you two were--”

“We’re not,” you cut in. Sans grumbles and shakes his head.

“Um, okay, well, I can see I’ve overstayed my welcome a bit,” Spencer says, retracting his arm and standing. He edges carefully around Sans to leave. “Enjoy that soup, okay? And feel better. I’ll, uh, be in touch.” 

“Bye, Spencer,” you call after him without taking your eyes off of Sans. The two of you stare at each other until the front door closes. 

Sans stays silent for a moment before he relaxes a little and falls onto the couch. He releases a long breath.

“i was, uh, lookin’ forward to comin’ back to see you,” he says. He takes in a breath like he has something else to say, but he doesn’t. You look over at him.

“How’d it go with Alphys?”

“she wasn’t any help at all. i’m no closer to figurin’ it out than i was before.”

“I’m sorry.” 

He tugs on your arm a little, whispering “c’mere” when you don’t immediately scoot towards him. He pulls you in, almost exactly how Spencer had, but somehow, this is much more comfortable, even with the distinct lack of cushioning between you and the hard surface of his bones - a wife beater and a lab coat put together really don’t do much.

“go back to sleep,” he says. “you need it.”

You don’t really argue with him. He’s not continuing to be pissy about Spencer being there, thank the universe, but you’re sure you’ll hear about it later. Still, you’re not going to ignore his kindness. You close your eyes, putting yourself just a little closer to him, and let yourself drift off again.

  
  


You wake up to find yourself sprawled out mostly on top of him, still on the couch. Your phone is on the floor, light blinking to tell you that you’ve got some kind of notification waiting. You pick it up, careful not to disturb Sans (he looks pretty peaceful) and wince when you unlock it. You turn the brightness down as quick as you can and go through your twelve texts from Undyne. The first eleven are pictures, each a different angle of you laying on top of Sans, your hands tangled in his ribs and his clutching his jacket which you still wear. You feel a wave of embarrassment creep up over you, your face heating a little bit, but her final texts simple reads, “About damn time”. You drop your phone unceremoniously back on the floor and let yourself lay back with him, closing your eyes and deciding to just let yourself be comfortable with this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a little late ;w; I had a hard time writing this (though it was actually done fairly quickly), and the new semester started for me yesterday. Hopefully I won't have too many delays in the future. This semester is going to be significantly easier on me than the last one.  
> But Spencer is by far my favorite minor OC and I love him.   
> Also also I'm planning on going through all of the chapters soon and fix typos and stuff (every time I go back to find something, I find a billion). None of the content will change, but stuff will be fixed and maybe worded just a little differently. I won't add anything or take anything out.  
> [Tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)


	35. By Spiders, For Spiders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the author provides some much needed fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the three(?) week absence. I got sick, then it turned into pneumonia when we weren't looking, plus school on top of all of that. Needless to say, there was very little motivation to work on this. But I'm back! Finally!  
> Thanks, as always, for the patience <3 Have a slightly longer chapter to make up for it.

You dream of angry masked men and explosives, worried skeletons and crumbling grounds, frigid temperatures and warm jackets, the smell of ketchup and cologne. What starts as a nightmare slowly melts into something better, something pleasant, like the feeling of bony hands stroking your hair, strands sometimes getting caught in their joints for a brief second. You feel nothing other than peace when your eyes finally flutter open. You’re… not on the couch anymore. Strange. You don’t remember moving off of the couch. You’re wrapped up in your own blankets on your own bed. There’s ribs pressed firmly against your back, an arm over your side and twisted tightly in the fabric of the shirt that’s hiked up your stomach. Somehow, it’s not all that uncomfortable. Actually, it’s… nice. You like this. 

After a few minutes of inspecting the way that the wall is painted, Sans shifts against you, grunting a little. He retracts his arm, allowing you to roll over to look at him. His eye sockets are barely open, the lights inside of them hazy and unfocused. You’re awfully close to him.

“mornin’,” he mumbles. 

“Hey,” you whisper. “What time is it?”

He moves just enough to pick up his phone from the bedside table and look at the screen. “ten-ish.”

“Mmm. That means I have to get up.” You have to do Frisk’s lessons today, and you’re supposed to start them by ten-thirty every morning at the latest.

“no you don’t,” Sans responds, pulling the covers up to your chin. 

“Yes I do.” Sadly. “Come on, bone boy, move it.” You push at him lightly, but he just groans and adopts a grin.

“ain’t movin’,” he tells you, rolling onto his back and adjusting himself so that he takes up as much of the bed as he possibly can.

You glare at him, albeit playfully, and sit up on your knees. You do your best to climb over him without landing your knees on his legs. You stumble a bit as you let your feet hit the floor. 

“boo. you’re no fun.”

“I can’t sleep the day away like you can,” you tell him, taking his jacket off of yourself - you’re surprised you didn’t take it off in your sleep, it’s much too warm - and dropping it on top of him. You feel gross being in the same clothes for this long. You need to get in the shower. “How’d we get up here? I don’t remember moving.”

“oh. uh. tori woke me up earlier this morning and said i needed to move you up to bed,” he says, almost dismissively. “said you have a bedroom for a reason.”

“So you brought me up and decided to stay?” You open your dresser drawers and start pulling out clean clothes. Jeans, t-shirt, other necessities. You hold the folded stack in your arms and turn to quirk an eyebrow at him, an amused smirk toying at your lips. He looks a little flushed. 

“uh. heh. yep.” He flicks the lights of his eyes down to the bundle in your arms, then back up to your eyes. “want me to go?”

“I’m gonna get in the shower,” you tell him, setting the stack on your bed as he sits up and swings his legs over the edge. “When I’m out of there, I’d rather not walk into a room in a towel and find a skeleton waiting for me.”

“what? no fun.”

You scrunch your nose at him before leaving the room, grabbing a towel from the hallway closet on your way to the bathroom. You lock the door behind you and let your clothes drop to the floor and stay there. You’ll take them back to the hamper in your room when you’re done. You turn on the water and step in, the hot water both stinging and relaxing. You get to work scrubbing the events of the last couple of days from your skin and hair. 

Something feels a little different about the way Sans is interacting with you this morning. It’s very obviously more personal, more intimate, almost like… You shake your head. It’s kind of nice, but kind of unsettling. Weren’t the two of you fighting just the other day, enough that you were ready to completely cut him off? Granted, you’ve forgiven him since, but it still hasn’t been that big of a time lapse. Whatever. You keep having to tell yourself that it’s in the past and it’s not worth being mad at him over anymore, and now is just one of those times where you need that self-given reminder. You finish up your showering routine and shut off the water, wrapping yourself in the fluffy, giant towel (Toriel and Asgore need huge ones and you’re definitely not going to complain) and gathering your dirty clothes. You make sure the towel isn’t going anywhere before you step out into the hallway and go back to your room.

Thankfully, Sans heeded your warning and made himself scarce before you came back, but the slight fizz in the air tells you that he waited until the absolute last second to do so. Fine, as long as he’s gone. You get yourself dressed and pat your hair dry with the towel before making sure it’s brushed and neat. The towel is hung on the hook attached to the closet door, and a quick trip to Asgore’s study makes you prepared for Frisk’s daily lessons. You head downstairs, worksheets and information packets in hand, and hope to find Frisk at the table. It’s edging really close to ten-thirty. 

You find Toriel in the kitchen, which is actually a little surprising for this point in the morning. She turns to you with a smile and a bagel with cream cheese, handing that to you. 

“Sans said that you would be down soon,” she says. “There is coffee waiting for you on the table.”

You look over and see the steaming mug sitting across from where Frisk thankfully sits, as promised. You smile up at the monster queen and accept the plate she’s holding out to you.

“Thank you, Toriel,” you say.

“It is unusual for you to sleep so late,” she says. “I will let it slide this time, considering the trouble you’ve been into lately, but next time, I will not stop Frisk when they try to enter your room to, as they said, literally jump on you to wake you up.” 

You snort and grin. “Yeah, that sounds like something they would do.” 

She gives an amused huff and turns you around, lightly pushing you towards the table. You oblige, taking your seat across from the child and taking a long drink of the coffee before handing them their first information packet. 

* _ ”Can’t Sans do it?” _ they sign. They’re very obviously still upset with you. You make a face. 

_ “And why would I ask him to do it?” _ you sign back.

* _ ”Everyone knows he spent the night last night,” _ they sign. There’s almost a mischievous look on their face. * _ ”He’s a good teacher and I’m mad at you right now.” _

_ “He was the one who said you would have to cover for me,” _ you remind them. They look a little taken aback, but finally relent with a frustrated huff. 

* _ ”Fine. But we need to get this done fast so I can go play with my friend.” _

You nod and jump right into the material with a promise that you’ll get them through this as quickly as you can. In the back of your mind, you’re trying to think of ways to win the child’s favor again. Odds are that you’ll have to get them a present or something. You get far enough into the lessons that you barely notice Toriel coming up next to you and clearing her throat a couple of times. 

“My child?” she says quietly, finally earning your attention. She looks a little nervous, or even embarrassed. “Would it be alright if I, um, took over for now? I-it would provide you the opportunity to eat your breakfast.”

You look down at your uneaten bagel, then back up at Toriel. “Uh. Yeah, if you really want to,” you say, standing from your chair. You weren’t even half an hour into the lesson. The only person who has ever asked you if they could take over was Sans, and that was with the science portion. Granted, he had a much greater understanding of it than you did, so it wasn’t that big of a deal.

Though, something about Toriel wanting to teach feels familiar.

She very excitedly takes your seat, waiting for you to remove your plate and coffee from the equation, then starts teaching Frisk in your place. You wander back into the kitchen to top off your coffee and eat your bagel in relative quiet. 

“she’s wanted to be a teacher for a long time.”

You jolt, setting the coffee pot back down in its place. “You’d think you’d know better than to sneak up on me while I’m pouring coffee,” you say.

Sans grins at you when you turn to him and leans his back against the island as you set your plate on it. “yeah, you’d think,” he agrees. “but you’re not mad at me right now, so i’m not worried about it.”

You hum. “Has she told me that she wanted to be a teacher before?”

“think so,” he says.

“That’s why her wanting to teach Frisk felt like something I’ve heard before,” you say. Sans gives you an odd look. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember what conversations I’ve had with who,” you explain. “I have a lot of conversations with a decent amount of monsters.”

“that’s true,” he says. “uh, hey, about this mornin’, did that bother you at all?”

“What, waking up to you in my bed?”

He breaks eye contact, opting to look at the cupboards behind you. He remains silent.

“It was kind of nice,” you admit quietly. He looks back to you, and for a second, it’s very obvious that you startled him. His visage relaxes all at once, and his grin is a lazy one once more.

“cool,” is all he says.

“What, looking for permission to turn it into a habit?” you tease. He shrugs. 

“who would blame me? it was kind of nice.”

You can feel heat creep up onto your cheeks, and you bite into one of the halves of your bagel. “Okay, cool, well, at least give me some warning,” you say. 

Sans snorts.

“Oh, hey, also, Frisk is still pretty mad at me,” you tell him. 

“why would the kid be mad at you?”

“Because they got in trouble for covering for me? That part should be obvious.”

“does that mean they’re mad at me, too?”

“I don’t know. They asked me to have you do their lessons today in my place, so maybe not.”

He looks a little pleased with himself for a moment. “huh. ok. so what’s your point?” 

“You know the kid pretty well, right? I mean, I like to think that I know them pretty well, too, but you’ve known them a bit longer.” He tilts his head at you. “How do you think I should make this up to them?”

He seems to be thinking for a second, trailing his gaze up to the ceiling. He’s got his hoodie back on, something that almost makes you smile a little. It looks so much better on him than you, so natural hanging from his shoulders. It definitely suits him, much more than it could ever have suited you. 

“take a picture,” he advises you. “i’d take the kid for ice cream, but seeing as they’re hangin’ out with monster kid today, i dunno that you’d have the time.”

“I could take both of them,” you say.

“i dunno if monster kid’s parent’s would be good with that.”

“You obviously don’t work today. Come with, then. Be the human-monster mediator.”

“but then again, you should be fine with the monster ambassador at your side.”

“Don’t try to get out of this,” you say. “I was under the impression that maybe you wanted to spend more time with me, seeing as how you came home excited to see me again last night and then stayed with me even after Toriel told you to take me upstairs.”

He flushes for the second time today, the light blue tinge across his cheekbones making him keep his gaze fixed squarely on the ceiling. You know that he’s fully aware of his blushing. 

“kid, you’re killing me,” he mutters. “yeah, ok, fine, i’ll come with you.”

You lean your head lightly on his shoulder in thanks as you finish your bagel. You can just barely hear Toriel telling Frisk that they need to take their time with their education, and that Monster Kid (you’ve met the little yellow dude before, but you’re not certain on if it’s their real name or not) can wait for them to be done before they play. You put your plate in the sink and return to the island to finish off your coffee as well. Once you’re good and pumped full of caffeine, you wash up your dishes and go over to the kitchen table, where it looks like Frisk is about three-quarters of the way through the lessons. 

“Hey, Toriel,” you say, “I had a quick question.”

“What is it, my child?” she murmurs, looking over one of Frisk’s completed worksheets. Her glasses are perched on the end of her nose, much like a librarian. 

“So, Frisk is headed out to play with Monster Kid today, right?”

“Yes, I am taking them as soon as they have completed their lessons. What of it?”

“I was wondering, do you think Sans and I could take them?”

She stops for a moment. “The both of you? Together?”

“Uh, yeah. We thought it would be fun. Maybe take them for some ice cream or something.”

She gives you a knowing look before looking to Frisk. “What do you think, my dear? Do you want to accompany her and Sans to get some ice cream? Monster Kid would be going with you, of course.”

Frisk gives you a look that says they know exactly what you’re trying to pull, but slowly nods and signs their agreement. You’re relieved, and it must show on you face, because their harsh expression relaxes a little when they look at you again.

“ _ Finish quick,” _ you sign to them when Toriel isn’t looking, and they flash you a grin and nod vigorously. 

You head back into the kitchen and take your spot next to Sans once again. 

“We’ll head off when they’re done and ready to go,” you say. 

“i’ll take care of transportation,” he says.

“Can you take more than one person at once?”

He nods. “especially with the void all loose like this,” he tells you.

You nod. “You aren’t working towards a solution today?”

“alphys told me she’d look into it as much as she could today and let me know what she finds. i’m just playing the waiting game.”

“I’m sorry.”

The two of you simply look on as Frisk finishes their lessons and rushes upstairs. They return with your bag and Sans’ shoes. You figure he must have taken them off before climbing into your bed with you. Courteous, at the very least. You can appreciate that. He shoves his feet into them, and you find some of your sneakers at the front door and put those on. 

“Sans, you do remember where their house is, do you not?” Toriel asks, in a rush to ensure that everything will be alright.

“yep.”

“And there is absolutely no way that you will not be able to teleport four people at once?”

“i got it.”

“I just want to be sure that all of you will be safe.”

“we know.”

“Sans, please, make sure that everyone is safe. Do not get into any trouble.”

“we’ll be fine, tor. don’t worry.”

The sincerity in his voice seems to placate her, and she finally backs off after giving Frisk a very tight hug. 

“Be good, alright?”

With that final sendoff, Sans pulls you into his side with one arm and takes Frisk’s hand with the other, and the magic gathering in the air tells you that you won’t be at home for much longer. 

When you open your eyes, you’re in front of a decently sized house in another neighborhood set up much like the one Toriel lives in. Frisk detaches from Sans as quickly as possible and bolts up to the door. You move to follow them, but the remaining presence of Sans’ hand on your waist stills you when you try. You look over at him, and he just shakes his head, removing his arm when you settle. Frisk returns with the armless monster child that you’ve probably met once or twice before in your time staying with Toriel. The two of them bound up to you and Sans, Monster Kid excitedly chattering about everything they’re going to do and Frisk nodding along and laughing and humming. 

“This is going to be SO COOL!” Monster Kid all but shrieks. “Where are we going first? The park? Nice cream? Ooooh, could we maybe go to Muffet’s? Has the human been to Muffet’s? I brought my wallet.”

Their wallet is a fanny pack tightly bound to their waist.

“What’s Muffet’s?” you ask. The name sounds familiar.

“It’s a bakery! Run by spiders, for spiders! But also now for humans,” the small monster explains. “Sans, can we? Please? Frisk loves their cider.”

Frisk nods and looks up at you. This is a game they’re going to play to see what you’ll do to win their affections again. You sigh and look at Sans, nodding when he looks at you for approval.

“alright, kids, gather ‘round,” he says. He pulls you into his side, making sure you’re holding onto him before he lets go of you and hugs Monster Kid to his front. Frisk grabs hold of his other arm and you’re off, coming out in front of a very cute looking building.

It’s a light, neutral tone with very curly letters spelling out “Muffet’s Bakery” in much of the same way that Grillby’s bar is labelled. It’s very inviting, very adorable indeed. You’re pretty excited to see the inside of it. Frisk and Monster Kid practically barrel inside, the door chiming with the light sound of bells as they do. You release Sans and follow them in.

There’s quite a few more monsters in here than there are humans, and you can probably attribute that to the amount of spiders in this building. There’s one, much larger than the rest of them, probably about your height, with cute ribbons in her hair and six arms that are all busily serving patrons as she walks around. Two of her hands gently push Frisk and Monster Kid towards an empty booth, then come up to crook a finger at you and Sans, gesturing for you to come over. She seems pretty on top of it.

“Welcome to my shop, dearies,” she sings, her voice sweeter than honey. “What can I get for you today?”

Monster Kid starts rattling off items, and you tell them that they need to save room for ice cream later. They make a face at you, then continue. It’s evident that they just ordered for all four of you.

“You wouldn’t know what to get, you’ve never been here,” they tell you matter-of-factly. It’s your turn to playfully make a face at them.

“you’ll like it,” Sans assures you from his seat across from you. Frisk beams from next to you.

It doesn’t take long for Muffet to return with hands full of plates and cups, a basket of croissants is placed in the center of the table, and next to it goes another basket filled with donuts with purple frosting and little spider-shaped sprinkles on top. Everyone gets a cup and a plate, then her final hand sets down a pitcher of what looks kind of like apple cider. 

“Enjoy,” she coos, then she’s gone, picking up more things from the counter and running around to other tables. You turn your attention back to the excited children sitting closest to the walls of your booth, then to the skeleton across from you.

“It’s so cute in here,” you comment, taking in the pastel-striped walls and the frilly adornments to the windows and the tables. A chalkboard behind the counter lists all kinds of sweets and baked goods. 

What catches you off guard a little is the banner at the top of the board that reads  _ “Made By Spiders, For Spiders, Of Spiders!” _

“pay no mind to that,” Sans says, as if he can tell what you’re looking at just by reading your expression. “you can’t even taste the things in there.”

“So there’s really--?”

Frisk is already halfway through a croissant and a glass of the cider, so you decide you should just throw caution to the wind and roll with it. If an eight-year-old can do it, so can you. You pick up a croissant and break one of the ends off as Sans watches you intently. You know he’s looking for your reaction. You pop the end into your mouth and chew. It’s very buttery and flaky, as you would expect a good, fresh croissant to be. It’s probably one of the best you’ve had. Definitely no weird spider taste to it. What is there, however, is the very slight tingle of magic inside of it, but that’s something you’re more or less used to.

“good?” Sans asks, amusement lacing his voice. He picks up the pitcher and pours some of the cider into your glass. 

“Yeah,” you say. 

“not afraid of eating spidery baked goods?”

“Not anymore.”

His grin grows as he sets the pitcher down and props one elbow on the table, resting his chin in his palm. “cool.” 

You watch over the children as they continue to scarf food and drink, talking about random subjects and preparing themselves for what lies ahead. The promise of an afternoon at the park and a frozen treat afterwards is enough to keep them both on their best (albeit  _ extremely _ energetic) behavior. Before you know it, Sans is pulling a wallet from his pocket - this might be the first time you see him pay for something! - and pay off the bill. He tells you as Muffet walks away to get his change that spiders are not the type to let a customer open a tab, especially not Muffet herself. He tells you that he’s heard horror stories of what she does to customers who don’t pay. The sweet smile she gives you when you’re all on your way out makes you feel like maybe that’s a little far fetched.

But then again, you don’t think that’s something you’d ever want to find out about.

Glad that you’ve come across yet another place to get good monster food - you’re starting to think that all monster food is good, save some of the stuff Papyrus tries to make on his own - you and Sans gather up the children and head partway into an alley. You’re near downtown, so the streets are starting to get busy for the lunch rush. You’re a little nervous doing all of this teleporting in broad daylight. Sans gets everyone in contact with him, and before you know it, you’re ready to head into the park. You recognize it as the same park that Papyrus was picked on before, when you came with more of your monster family. A bitter feeling settles in your stomach, but that is gone as soon as you see the sheer number of monsters playing here. There’s barely any humans, and you realize it’s technically a school day.

Frisk and Monster Kid both run off to to play with the other monster children, and Sans leads you over to two swings as they’re abandoned. You take one, and he takes the other. This puts you close enough to step in if something goes awry, but you know that monsters are naturally kind hearted. You’re not worried about Frisk in the slightest. Not unless they decide to jump off of the very top of the play structure. 

Then again, even if that happened, you wouldn’t be too worried. They survived a fall into the mountain, for chrissakes. 

“you know,” he starts slowly, as if he has a lot to say but he’s not sure how to say any of it. “i never, uh, properly thanked you.”

“For what?” 

“for stickin’ with me,” he says, “when i, uh, when i was about to dust. you made it a hell of a lot easier on me.”

“Grillby said something about that,” you murmur. 

“that fucker,” he grumbles, but you feel no negativity in the statement. “anyways, i just wanted you to know that i, uh, appreciate you.”

That comment feels… nice. You feel your cheeks burn, just slightly. That doesn’t feel like something that should come out of Sans’ mouth. Papyrus, yes, but not the older brother of the two. You kick the ground so that you swing just a little and clear your throat.

“I, um, appreciate you, too,” you tell him. There’s a pause, but you can’t bring yourself to look up at him to see his expression. “When we fell to the Underground, I don’t know how, but you saved me. If you didn’t catch me however you did, I would have died.”

“i, uh, caught you with magic,” he says. “barely. i almost couldn’t.” 

“But you did, and that’s what matters.” 

He chuckles, barely audible, not really sounding actually amused but more relieved,  almost. “i’m glad i could help.” 

You smile over at him, catching his blue blush for the third time today. He looks over at you as well, his grin looking a little more genuine than usual. The two of you fall into very blissful silence. It’s comfortable. You like this a lot. 

You like it when things go well with Sans. 

You hear some obnoxious sound come from his pocket, and you watch him pull out his phone and tap out a message. 

“paps,” he tells you after looking at you briefly from the corner of his eye socket. “he, uh, heard we were out together.”

“Yeah?”

“yeah. also wanted to tell me that there’s still no leads on that shithead cult leader.”

The comfortable air between the two of you is gone at the mention of Froggit Face.

“Oh, I see.”

“sorry, i, uh, thought you might want to know about that stuff,” he says. “but he’s really excited about this whole royal guard coming back to life thing.” 

“He and Undyne both,” you comment. “Wasn’t it his dream to be in the Royal Guard? Then Undyne goes and one-ups that and makes him vice captain.”

“my bro deserves the best. he’s the coolest. he’s worked so hard for this,” Sans says. 

You smile fondly. You can imagine Papyrus training his ass (tailbone?) off to get into the Guard. He’s told you tons of stories about his training with Undyne, though most of the recent stories have been more about cooking than becoming a guardsman. 

“Hey, um, Sans? The Nice Cream guy is here.” Monster Kid takes you completely by surprise, pulling you out of your thought process. “Can we go get Nice Cream now?” 

“if he’s here, then that saves me the trip,” he says. “yeah, you and frisk can go for it.” He pulls some cash from his wallet and holds it out to Monster Kid, who takes it between their teeth and runs off.

“They’re a pretty cute kid,” you say. 

“yeah.”

The kids insist on staying much longer than you personally would like, though you and Sans get the opportunity to spend that time talking, joking around. It’s really nice. You could really get used to this kind of stuff. Soon, the kids come back, Monster Kid telling you that they really need to get home before their parents start worrying. Frisk pitches a little bit of a fit when Sans grabs everyone to teleport, but calms down when Monster Kid starts telling everyone that they’ve had an “extremely awesome” time and that they can’t wait to hang out with the three of you again. Frisk is a little upset to see them go, but you know that they understand. They’ll get out to play with them again sometime really soon. 

Frisk rushes into the house as soon as they’re back at Toriel’s. Sans shuffles in place for a moment, standing on the doorstep with you. He looks at you with a lopsided grin, as he normally would, but something feels a little different as Toriel’s front door closes behind the child, making the front step feel much more private than what it actually is. 

“you, uh, won’t be freaked out if you wake up to a skeleton in your bed?”

“I told you I need some warning,” you remind him. 

He nods and hums. “i, uh, i’ll call first,” he says, his tone playful. 

“Thanks,” you say. “That’s pretty sweet of you, skeleton.”

“hey, uh, kid,” he starts. He looks down at his feet for a very long moment before he looks up at you again. “you know that thing? that you said you’d tell me again?”

“Which one?”

“at grillby’s, before i, uh, stormed off.”

Oh.

You freeze for a moment.

“What about it?”

“i think i’m, heh, ready to hear it without stormin’ off.”

_ Oh. _ Okay. 

It’s your turn to look down at your feet, unsure if this is the right time or place to go about this. But, well, he’s asking for it, and this day with him could not have been better. Maybe now is the only chance you’ll get. Maybe you’ll wake up in the morning and it’ll be armageddon. Get it together, now is the time. Now’s your chance. 

“Sans,” you breathe. “I like you. A lot.”

His face brightens immediately, and he leans in to your ear. 

“likewise,” he whispers. You feel his teeth press against your lips briefly in something you might even call a chaste kiss, then he leans back and grins at you. You’re offered a slow wink before you blink and he’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said much needed fluff and I meant much needed fluff.  
> [Tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)


	36. Business Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is serious business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thursday!  
> Teensy bit on the shorter side but. eh.

Okay. Alright. 

You look at the place where Sans stood just seconds before, confused and nervous and  _ oh my god _ you just got smooched by a skeleton. There’s so many other things you should be worrying about right now but apparently none of it matters because he asked for your confession to be repeated then returned it and then  _ kissed _ you - does that even count as a kiss? He’s all teeth - and holy shit you were not prepared for that at all. 

You let yourself into the house, focusing on reining in your straying thoughts. Should you tell anyone about this? Maybe Undyne. She’s made it abundantly clear that she ships the two of you, and you’re pretty sure Alphys does, too. She’s probably one of your best friends. It feels right to tell her. Then again, if she hears, she’ll start screaming about it at the top of her lungs. The entire neighborhood would know about your skeleton smooching ways if that happened. 

“Ah! There you are,” Toriel greets you as you wander into the living room. Frisk is sitting on the couch with her, rapidly signing something that you can’t see. The television screen is blank. Frisk tugs sharply on her sleeve, causing her to chuckle. “Yes, my child, I am paying attention. What happened after you went to Muffet’s?”

You smile at her and nod in her direction, acknowledging that there probably won’t be much time for you to talk to her until Frisk is done detailing the time you spent out and about today. You leave your bag next to the couch and sit down on the opposite end of the couch, effectively trapping Frisk between you and the queen of monsters. You try to take in their exaggerated retelling of the day’s events, but with their back turned to you, it’s kind of hard. Actually, it’s impossible. You turn your attention back to your thoughts.

You feel like within the last five minutes, you’ve become obsessed with the kiss from Sans and all of its possible connotations. It’s been a little while since a three second act has had this kind of effect on you. Honestly, you feel kind of like a lovesick middle schooler with a crush. On a skeleton. Who apparently returns those feelings. Hoo boy. 

“My dear, your face is very red,” Toriel comments, pulling you out of your head again. She has the same knowing look on her face as she did when you asked if you and Sans could take Frisk and Monster Kid out earlier. “Frisk did not mention something potentially embarrassing happening to you, and I am confident that they told me every detail of what they saw.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” you tell her. You can’t make eye contact with her. Dear god, this is like the time you told your mother about your first significant other. 

“Then what is it?”

Frisk looks at you expectantly. They give you a thumbs up.

“Well, before I came in--”

Toriel’s pocket emits music loud enough to make you fear for your hearing. She pulls her phone from her pocket and sighs as she looks at the screen.

“It is Asgore,” she says. “I must answer this. But hold that thought! We are not done with this conversation!”

As she answers the phone and greets the king, her face melts from one of slight amusement to something much more grim. The conversation lasts barely a few minutes. She looks to Frisk when she hangs up.

“Please go upstairs for a while,” she says to them. 

Frisk makes a noise of disbelief and looks to you for assistance. As much as you don’t want to upset them after you just made up with them, you know that Toriel wouldn’t insist that they go upstairs unless something serious was going on. You jerk your thumb over your shoulder, pointing it at the stairs. They huff and stand, crossing their arms and sticking their tongue out at you before heading upstairs as they were told. You’ll deal with their returned rage later. Toriel picks up the remote and turns on the television, flipping the channel over to the news. 

Every happy, self-indulgent thought you had is now gone.

Live feed of the base of the mountain is shown, depicting people in hazmat suits carrying chunks of charred human remains that are just barely starting to show signs of decay into wheeled bins for disposal. The camera swivels over to the newscaster, who seems to be having a very hard time keeping her apparent nausea from her expression.

_ “Cleanup has been going on for a greater part of the day, but there is so much that it barely looks like any progress has been made,” _ she’s saying.  _ “Some cleanup crew members have found half-burned pamphlets and have been able to piece them together to make one that’s readable. They seem to be promoting the ‘monster agenda’, which appears to include, and I quote the pamphlet, ‘forcing the humans to experience what monsters had to after the war centuries ago’. This begs the question: Are the monsters behind this act of mass murder and terrorism? Are they not as peaceful as they have led us to believe? Why were these countless victims at the base of the mountain monsters were once buried under, and what did they know that would make the monsters want them dead? With that, I send it back--” _

Toriel turns the TV off, huffing violently through her nose. “It appears that our attempts at keeping things relatively quiet have failed,” she says. “Asgore and I will have to meet with the human government as soon as possible to refute these ridiculous claims.”

Her words barely register. You’re too busy trying to control your breathing and trying not to vomit. You had been doing  _ so good _ \- no nightmares for the last two nights, barely any thoughts about the carnage. You thought that maybe you could just repress all of that and force yourself to forget about it, and you thought it was working. You thought that you could distract yourself by going back to business as usual. That’s honestly part of why you had wanted to make things up to Frisk now of all times; they wouldn’t be mad at you, and you could pretend that things were just fine, that things were a-okay, when they’re very obviously the exact opposite. 

Toriel places a warm, heavy paw on your upper back, encompassing part of each shoulder blade and the space between them, and starts moving it in slow circles. That’s enough to open the floodgates and let you break down, your breath hitching with each violent sob. 

“I know that this is hard,” she says quietly, ceasing in the rubbing of your back and pulling you into a very warm embrace that might be comforting if you weren’t completely panicked. “But for now, I need you to stay strong. We must do as much damage control as we can. I think that you should go ensure that your mother is safe.”

Shit. Your mother. In the midst of trying to put up a convincing mask that says “I didn’t just witness the total the destruction of an entire cult plus my dad”, you forgot to check on your mom. She could be in danger, simply because she’s married - was married? You’re not entirely sure what happens with marriage after death right now, it’s hard to think - to your father. That definitely hits you like a ton of bricks and stops the crying.

“I do not think you are in any state to drive there by yourself, however,” she goes on. “I will accompany you.” You take a deep breath to hopefully steady your breathing before you respond.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” you ask her. “With the… allegations?” 

“It will be fine,” she assures you. “Your mother seems to like us enough. I am not afraid of her trying to harm me in any way.”

You suppose that’s good enough. If Toriel is confident, then you should trust that confidence.

“Okay,” you say. “We can go together.”

She smiles warmly, holding you at arm’s length and studying your face. “I need to make a call to Asgore. Will you see if Sans will come to watch Frisk while we are out? I know that he just went home, but I cannot leave them here alone and I am not comfortable bringing them with.”

“Yeah, no problem,” you say. She releases you and stands, heading into the kitchen to make her call. You pull out your phone and dial his number. It barely gets to the second ring before he picks up. That’s really quick for him.  
_“heya.”_

“Can you come watch Frisk? Toriel and I are going to make sure my mom is okay.”

The line goes dead. Before you can begin to question it, there is a skeleton sitting next to you on the couch. 

“i didn’t even get to relax for that long before you dragged me back out,” he complains before looking over at you. When he does, his sockets widen marginally. “you’ve been crying.” 

“Yeah, it’s that obvious?”

“human eyes get puffy when they cry. and red.”

“Yeah, well.”

“what upset you?”

You shake your head. “Toriel turned on the news and it showed them, uh, cleaning up the cult meeting,” you say. Your voice wavers, your throat starting to tighten again. You swallow and focus on the floor instead of his searching eye lights. 

“shit. don’t look at that stuff, ok? you don’t need to.”

“I know. I didn’t expect it to be there.”

He doesn’t say anything, but you can still feel his gaze on you. You finally peer up at him, starting to wonder why Toriel is taking so long.

“uh. about earlier. is it ok to distract you right now?”

“Yes. Distractions are good.”

“ok. earlier.” He looks away from you, suddenly more interested in the bones of his fingers as they scrape together in a way that you think makes him look nervous. “was that… did i step outta line there?”

“No,” you say after barely a second. Much too quick on the draw, there. “I… That was fine. That was good. Um. Yes. No lines were stepped out of there.”

The edges of his grin twitch. You’re upset and you’re starting to put your foot in your mouth because you’re not really thinking straight but honestly you don’t think you could have stopped yourself anyways. He’s trying not to laugh at you.

“ok. cool.” He looks back up at you. “but if i get close to stepping out of that line, lemme know.”

“Of course,” you say. 

“What did Sans do to possibly step out of line?” Toriel asks, coming back into the room. Her amusement is back, and you’re sure she’s going to tease to get your mind off of things. You watch Sans’ face tint blue, just a little. 

“nothin’.” 

Toriel gives him a look. She sees right through him.

“Tori, w-we gotta go,” you say in an attempt to save both your dignity and his. “Mom, remember?” 

“Oh! Of course. I am out of sorts. Let us go.”

“want a teleport?”

“No, I think the drive will give me some time to figure out exactly what to say to her,” you tell him. “But thank you. For the offer and for watching Frisk.”

“...no problem.”

Toriel looks between the two of you one more time before she sighs and picks your bag up off of the floor. “Come on, then.”

You stand, looking at Sans for a moment longer before you head towards the door with Toriel. Outside, the air is warm and too heavy for the beginning of June, you think. You eye your silver four-door before looking at Toriel. She probably wouldn’t fit. She gestures to her car, some kind of SUV that she seems to only have a little bit of trouble getting into the passenger seat of. You get into the driver’s seat and - holy shit, this seat is pushed and leaned so far back that you feel like you’re crawling into bed. You make quick work of adjusting it, making a mental note to put it back as close to how you found it as you can. You look over to find Toriel leaning her seat back just a bit, enough that her head isn’t against the ceiling of the car. It must suck being ridiculously tall. You wonder briefly if Asgore’s horns have ever punctured the top of a car before.

“I do not like driving automobiles,” she tells you. “I do not use mine often.”

“That’s alright,” you say. “It’s good to have one you’ll fit in.”

She laughs lightly at that. You start the car and, trying to get used to how it kind of feels like a boat compared to your much smaller car, carefully back out of the driveway. Your mom’s house is across town, and you give Toriel a vague warning that it might take a while. She expresses her understanding and makes small talk during the journey. Before long - thankfully, traffic is pretty clear despite it heading into late afternoon. You pull into your mother’s driveway. The garage is closed. You aren’t sure if she’s even home. You should have called first.

But there’s no time to chastise yourself. You take a deep breath before looking at Toriel, who gives you a reassuring smile. Alright, time to do this. Make sure your mom is safe, make sure she knows about your dad, stay until the initial shock passes, figure out where to go from there. Easy peasy. 

Through the front window, you see the kitchen light on. All of the lights in this house are turned off when not in use, so that’s a good indicator that she’s at home. You ring the doorbell, checking over your shoulder to make sure that Toriel is close by. You hear your mother’s heels click against the hardwood flooring as she approaches the door, unlocking it and opening it with a slightly startled look on her face. She looks a mess, but she brightens as soon as she sees you.

“Darling!” she exclaims, opening the door much wider and stepping aside to let you in. “I see that you’ve brought Queen Toriel with you.”

“Just Toriel, I insist,” the monster queen says politely. 

“Hi, Mom,” you say, offering her what kind of smile you can manage. It feels more like a grimace on your face. 

“Is something the matter?” she asks almost immediately. “Your eyes look a little red. Have you been crying?”

“Um. Let’s go sit down, okay?” you urge gently. She gives you an odd look. 

“Alright. The sitting room, then.”

You’re unsure of why your father insisted on having so many rooms to just sit in, or so many rooms in general. Even when the both of them were here, it was so empty. Now, knowing that it’s just your mother, even if she doesn’t know that yet, it’s painful. Eerily quiet. Nothing but the sound of her heels and Toriel’s feet padding along and your sneakers on the floor. Echoing. Empty. You wonder how she can stand it.

The sitting room is fairly elegant, decorated much more than the rest of the house. Sometimes you forget that they host company parties here fairly often. Your mother takes a seat on the loveseat, and Toriel sits on the one opposite, gesturing for you to sit next to your mother. That’s probably a good idea, given what you need to talk about.

“You know, I’m glad you visited,” she says. “You didn’t call, but that’s alright. I’ve been home by myself anyways. Your dad’s been out on a business trip. I haven’t gotten any calls. I hope he’s alright.”

You look at Toriel. You don’t know how to say this. Maybe you should wait a minute?

“D-do you know where he was going?” you ask instead. 

She shakes her head. “No, said it was urgent and he’d call later. I’ve never seen him look so disheveled. His suit was barely on him when he left.” She shrugs. “He said it might be a few days, maybe a week, and that I should go about business as usual.”

The lump in your throat only grows. You can feel tears stinging at your eyes, and it’s something obviously not lost on her. Her brows furrow, and she tries to get you to look at her. You can’t look her in the eye.You can’t look at her face. You can’t do it. 

“Honey? What’s going on? Talk about your father never makes you cry,” she says in a near-whisper. The fear you can see on her face from the corner of your eye makes you think that she might know where this is headed.

“Mom, I…” You hiccup. Here come the waterworks. 

“Does this have to do with… what I saw on the news..?”

Another hiccup. You can only nod.

She wraps you in her arms and pulls you to her in much of the same way Toriel had done earlier. “Darling, what do you mean?”

Only a barely audible whisper escapes your lips as you manage to find the breath to tell her, “Dad’s dead.”

Silence. She goes completely rigid. You can’t say anything else. You can only sit still and put your arms around her in return as she goes from a statue to a crumbling mess, whimpering and blubbering as she falls into you, and it turns out that you’re holding her now instead of the other way around. You kiss the top of her head. You’re crying, too. You forget that Toriel is there.

Right now, in this moment, your mom is the only thing you have left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter was all fluff. You all should know by now that I can't just spoil you with fluff. Plus plot needs to happen.   
> Tell me your feels at my [Tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)!   
> Also, shoutout to a reader called Nova who literally guessed like 80% of this chapter in their comment on the last one. I swear they're clairvoyant.


	37. Family Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a family, and it meets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to edit chapters and do other stuff at the same time is really hard. I need to figure out that I can't multitask.  
> I was listening to [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TZ5qQLA2NS0) the entire time I was writing this, in case anyone was wondering

It takes a long time for either of you to calm down enough to speak. 

“I’m so sorry,” your mother says, her voice closer to a raspy whisper than anything else, wiping tears from her eyes with the heel of her hand. She’s directing her apology at Toriel, who had not moved an inch no matter how long you had been sitting there. “I didn’t even offer any refreshments… Are you thirsty? Is there anything I can get you?”

“I… do not think that is…” She cuts herself off when she looks at you and sees you nodding. You know what your mom is trying to do. “Water. Water would be more than enough.”

Your mother stands, giving you a weak smile before wandering towards the kitchen. You return your gaze to Toriel’s confused expression.

“She’s trying to take her mind off of it by being a good hostess,” you explain. “Hosting dinners and having guests is kind of her thing. It makes her feel better.” 

Toriel nods, seeming to understand. You and your mom are actually a lot alike in that aspect - her with her parties, you with taking Frisk and their friend out on the town. You both cope by distracting yourselves, which you know isn’t entirely healthy, but it helps for a while. 

Your mother returns with water for the two of you and a glass of wine that you know she put a bit extra in for herself. Whatever's going to calm her nerves. She sits next to you again, crossing one leg over the other and taking a long drink from her glass after ensuring that Toriel has received her drink. You take a breath and prepare yourself for what feels like it’s going to be an immensely difficult conversation for you to have. You decide now to leave out as many of the gory details as you can get away with.

“Are the news reports right?” she asks. She seems to be a little more calm. “Does it really have to do with the 'monster agenda’?”  

“Stars, no,” Toriel says. “Monsters want nothing more than peace. We made that perfectly clear when we came to the surface. Do you remember the quarantine?”

That's right. Monsters had been quarantined for the first couple of months after they came to the surface. You were surprised when they were allowed to integrate so soon, but things obviously aren't completely smoothed over. 

“I remember,” your mom says coolly. “But that doesn't mean that you aren't hiding anything from us.”

“Mom,” you try to interject. 

“If I wanted humans to suffer, would I have come along to make sure that you are alright? Would your daughter be living peacefully in my home?” Toriel asks, cutting you off. “I do not want to fight with you. I only wish for you to know of what happened to your husband after he came to warn my household.”

There's silence for a moment.

“My husband… came to you..?”

“Dad came to tell us where he was going,” you tell her gently. “He wanted us to know about the cult gathering at the base of the mountain that he had to attend.”

“Your father… Do you mean the criminals that he had been defending in court?” Her face is beginning to regain color. You're not sure if that's because of the alcohol or the newfound rage that's crawling over her expression. “I knew he was defending those cretins, and I told him I was against it, but I didn’t know that they were… a  _ cult _ . What the hell.”

“Yeah,” you say. “He told them he couldn't back them anymore and… the leader blew them all up. He said that since he didn't know who else was doubting him among the ranks, he had to get rid of everyone.”

“And how would you know that?”

You clear your throat and look nervously up at your mom. “Uh. I went? To see what was going on? W-with Sans?”

“That skeleton?” She sounds absolutely livid. The first time they met, she had thought that Sans was trying to steal you away. “Why would you let him convince you to go do something so dangerous? You could have gotten yourself killed, too!”

“Mom, I convinced him to take me,” you rush to say. “That was my fault.”

“I told her to stay in her room and she blatantly disobeyed,” Toriel cuts in, her voice heavy with her remaining annoyance with you. “Sans should have known better, but he did keep her safe.”

“Everything's okay, I promise.”

“I raised you better than to do something as stupid as that,” your mother chastises. “You're an adult and I can't punish you, but know that I am extremely disappointed.”

Disappointed is worse than just pissed off. You don't say anything.

“Well… at least I know what happened,” she goes on. “I… thank you. I'll have to figure out what to do as far as a funeral. I appreciate you coming out to talk to me about this.”

You and Toriel exchange glances. It feels wrong just leaving her here like this. 

“This house is awfully large for only one person,” Toriel says slowly, keeping her gaze level with yours until you nod. You're on the same page. “Would you… like to stay with us? For a little while? There is more than enough room in my home, and you would be closer to your daughter in this time of grief.”

“Mom, I think it's a great idea,” you say. “We can figure out the funeral together, and then you won't be alone. I can't imagine how lonely it gets in here when there's no party.”

Your mother stares at you for a long moment, then looks to Toriel. “Living… with monsters?”

“It's just like living with anyone else,” you assure her. “They’re like an extended family to me.”

“We would be honored to have you stay with us,” Toriel pushes gently. “Any family of your daughter’s is family of ours.”

“I'll… have to think about it,” your mom says. “I'm not sure if I can just leave this house right away.”

“I understand,” Toriel says. “It was hard for many monsters to leave the Underground, and some are still too attached to leave. It is all we knew for such a long time. I know that you can reach your daughter at any time with your decision, whatever it may be.”

“And you can come over any time for dinner or just to visit,” you tell her. “It's a little bit of a drive, but not too bad. We'd love to have you whenever you want to come.”

“Thank you,” she says. She looks into her empty wine glass. “Thank you for visiting, you two. I will, um, let you know what I want to do later.”

You and Toriel both take that as your cue to leave. You don't want to, but it's what she wants right now. She wants the alone time to grieve.  Toriel stands first, and once your mom does as well, the boss monster pulls her into a hug and whispers something to her. Your mom looks almost relieved. She comes over to hug you once she's released. 

“I love you, Mom,” you tell her. 

“I love you too, my dear,” she responds, keeping you there for a moment longer before letting you go. She walks you and Toriel to the door, shutting it behind you without another word. 

“That went… much better than I had anticipated,” Toriel tells you as the two of you get back into the car. 

“Yeah,” you agree. “I thought she’d want to know  _ everything _ , and I didn’t know if I’d be able to tell her all of that.”

“I am sure that she saw what you were afraid of speaking about on the news,” she assures you as you pull out of the driveway and set a course for home. “For now, I can only hope that she accepts our offer. We will have to clean up the other guest room, since we have been using it for storage, but I suppose that it is an excuse to finally finish unpacking our belongings.”

“You guys aren’t totally unpacked?” That’s a little crazy for you to think about, considering that their house seems to perfectly put together. You wonder how much more stuff that they have hidden in boxes that they would want to put out. You can’t escape the feeling that maybe the house would get a little more cluttered. 

“No, not yet. Most of what is left is photographs and other things from long ago,” she tells you. “Nothing like furniture or clothing. We wanted to wait until things would remain… permanent.”

She was worried about not being able to stay on the surface. She didn’t finish unpacking because she was worried about her people being forced back Underground.

“What better way to take a stand than to prove that we are not going anywhere,” she muses.

“I think it’s a good idea,” you tell her. “It’s your home, why shouldn’t all of your stuff be out on display?”

She hums in agreement, turning her attention out of the window with a contemplative expression. You decide to keep quiet and leave her to her thoughts. You have a few things that you’re thinking about, yourself.

First off, your mother. She seemed awfully calm about all of this, once the initial shock and breakdown passed. She has always been an extremely strong person, but you didn’t know that she would be able to shove down her emotions about something as devastating as losing her husband. You’re sure that she’s taking it very hard right now, and as soon as you left her home, she probably lost it once again. You feel awful leaving her behind, but you know that it’s something she needs. Every time she and your dad ever fought while you were growing up, she would lock herself in the bedroom until she calmed down, no matter what it was about. You know that she’ll call you within the next few days to tell you what she’s decided, and you just have to wait for her to do just that. 

Second, there’s this whole situation. Where the hell did the pamphlets come from? You know that you didn’t see any while you were at the cult meeting, and you didn’t see any afterward, in the time between you went to investigate and when you fell. Someone had to have gone back to plant those there, burning them and having them look like they had been there the entire time. It doesn’t make sense. Even if they were monster-made, and the situation was what the media thinks that it was, you don’t think that monsters would have brought that propaganda to a mass execution like that. It’s making you realize just how feeble-minded your townspeople can be. You shake your head at the thought. Toriel and Asgore are going to have to work hard to make sure that the people see this was just an attempt to play on their lingering fear of monsters to control them. There’s going to be a lot of stress in the house for a while. 

That leads to Sans. You’re more than sure that Toriel will be calling a “family meeting” tonight, which actually consists of the household plus the skeleton brothers, Undyne, and Alphys, sometimes Mettaton if he’s around and if it pertains to him. This is something too big for her to wait on. You can only imagine what Sans’ reaction is going to be, especially since his mind seems to be set on more personal matters as of late. It only makes sense that when things seem to be going well for the two of you, shit hits the fan for the rest of monsterkind. You’re starting to feel like you’re not allowed to find happiness.

Whatever. You’re more concerned about your friends and family being safe. You can wait for happiness to come until after that’s taken care of.

You and Toriel sit in silence for the duration of the car ride home, occasionally exchanging glances but nothing more. It’s written all over her face that she’s trying to figure out how to handle all of this. The sun is starting to set over the horizon as  you pull into her driveway, doing what you can to adjust the driver’s seat back to where it was before. The two of you head into the house, you kicking off your shoes as you do. You hear the television in the other room, playing a Disney movie that you recognize the soundtrack for. You head into the room, Toriel hot on your heels. You find Sans and Frisk on the couch, the child sleeping and Sans looking like he’s about to be doing the same. He looks up when he hears you come in, a sleepy look on his face.

“heya.”

Toriel moves around to scoop Frisk up from where they lean on the skeleton, then heads for the stairs. 

“Did you two eat?” you ask him before she’s out of earshot. You hear her footsteps halt.

“paps came by and made some spaghetti when he heard you guys weren’t home,” he tells you.

Toriel hums and continues on her way.

“That’s good,” you say, letting yourself sit down next to him. 

“how’d, uh, things go with your mom?” he asks carefully, as if he feels this is thin ice he’s treading on. You shrug.

“After she was done crying, she seemed kind of okay,” you tell him. “I mean, I know she’s probably mulling it all over again right now, but we should be hearing from her in a few days. Toriel and I offered to let her stay here for a little while. It’s an awfully big house for one person.”

“i see,” he says. You watch him for a second. It feels like that conversation is done for now, but he looks like he might have something else to say. He sucks in a breath. “hey, uh, about earlier, i--”

“This isn’t the time, Sans,” you say, cutting him short. He looks a little taken aback, his grin barely faltering, but he nods.

“right. sorry.” 

“I’d love to talk about it, don’t get me wrong, but we need to be worrying about something else right now,” you explain quietly, picking out Toriel’s steps on the stairs. Sans meets his gaze with yours and nods in understanding. He doesn’t seem quite so upset anymore.

“The child is asleep,” she says, coming into the room. “Hopefully they will stay that way for the night. It is getting late. The days are getting longer.” She glances at the clock. “I hope that it is not too late to call everyone over? Asgore should be returning soon.”

“Actually, I am returning now,” Asgore’s voice booms from the front door. You didn’t hear it open. “What is it that we need to discuss with everyone here?”

“Do you not watch the news?” Toriel grumbles. “Sans, would you call your brother and Undyne? I am sure the two of them are together. Make sure that Alphys knows as well.”

“you got it,” Sans says, pulling his phone from his pocket. He taps out a text, and you wait. 

Toriel and Asgore hardly speak until Undyne, Papyrus, and someone decidedly  _ not _ Alphys all show up, taking themselves over to the kitchen table where most of your meetings are held. Sans looks over at you and offers you what you think is a reassuring grin before he stands and moves to join them. You follow close behind him.

“Mettaton, if you wake my child, you will never be allowed in this home again,” Toriel scolds the robot, who is currently draped dramatically over the surface of the table. He sits up and pouts at her. She’s definitely not playing games today.

“I deeply apologize, Your Majesty,” he says, just as dramatic as always, but his sound turned down in its own dramatic way. You’ve never heard him so quiet.

“Where is Alphys?” Asgore asks.

“She’s passed out at home,” Undyne says. “She’s been working her tail off. I’m not just going to wake her up for something that I can tell her about later.”

You feel really bad for Alphys. You haven’t seen much of her recently. Actually, you don’t think you’ve heard from her at all aside from the occasional text telling you that she’s doing just fine, though you’re not always sure that you believe her. You’ll have to drop in and force a visit on her sometime soon.

“Make sure you do not leave out any details,” Toriel tells her. “I suppose that, once Mettaton takes a seat, we will begin this family meeting.”

Mettaton reluctantly takes a seat, his pout never leaving his metallic face.

“I apologize for calling everyone in on such short notice,” she starts. “I do not know if you have all seen the news today, but what the reporters are saying is… jarring, to say the least.”

“Are you talking about that shit with the explosion?” Undyne asks.

“Language. And yes, that is precisely it.” 

“I’m afraid I haven’t had time to tune in,” Mettaton says, leaning his arms on the table. “What exactly is going on?”

“About the cult meeting turned mass murder,” you tell him. “They’re finding monster propaganda there, stuff that everyone at this table knows is fake. It’s saying stuff about monsters wanting to force humans Underground to pay for what they did to you after the war.”

“Entirely untrue, seeing as something that dreadful is nothing close to what we want,” Mettaton sighs. 

“Exactly. And people are believing it,” you say.

“that’s bullshit,” Sans mutters.

“LANGUAGE,” Papyrus chastises him. “BUT WHY WOULD SOMEONE WANT US TO LOOK LIKE WE WOULD WANT TO DO THAT TO HUMANS? THINGS BETWEEN US AND THEM ARE GOING SO SMOOTHLY!”

“That’s exactly why,” you say. “They want humans to be scared of monsters again.”

“I DON’T UNDERSTAND?”

“I’m sure I’ve probably explained it before, but it’s worth saying again.” You take a breath, looking around to each of your friends in turn. “Humans have a history of hating anything that’s different, even another human with a different skin color. It’s something that they’re still fighting amongst themselves about today. It’s nothing new, and while I like to think that maybe we’re getting close to coming to some sort of understanding, I don’t think there’s going to be any real end to racism. There’s always going to be someone who thinks that they’re better than someone else. The same goes for monsters. Humans may have been quick on the draw to let you out of quarantine and let you integrate into their society, but honestly, I highly doubt it’s out of the goodness of their hearts. I think maybe it was a good political move, and that’s the extent of it. People are getting past the awe and wonder you guys initially caused. People are unsure, and whoever spread that propaganda around the site knew that. They’re using their uncertainty and turning it into fear.”

“I could not have explained it better myself,” Toriel says. “As sad as it all is, it is something that we need to accept. Asgore and I will meet with the human government as soon as we possibly can. We are leaving first thing in the morning to demand a meeting with them--”

“We are?” Asgore cuts in.  
“Yes, we are,” she tells him sternly. “I hate to ask for you all to watch over Frisk, but please take care of things while we are gone. I will call if there is anything more that I need from any of you.”

“I’ll make sure that all monster channels are filled to the brim with facts on the situation,” Mettaton says. “Nothing but heavily researched material will get past my watchful eye!”

“Do not broadcast about it too often,” Toriel advises. “I do not want to turn it into something bigger than it is.”

“I’m simply combating the human media, darling. They won’t pull any punches, and neither will I!”

“I think it’s a good idea for Mettaton to do a little news broadcasting on this,” you tell her. “I know that a lot of humans trust his news stations more than the local ones that have been around much longer.”

“I sincerely hope that you know what you are doing,” Toriel says with a sigh.

“I’ll make sure that the metal punk doesn’t say anything he shouldn’t,” Undyne says, casting a glare in the pink robot’s direction. Mettaton pouts once more, but Undyne doesn’t seem to notice. “Actually, maybe I’ll assign Papyrus to just that. He’ll know anything that the Royal Guard finds out just as soon as I do, and he can make sure that Mettaton doesn’t stray from the beaten path.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Mettaton coos, leaning towards Papyrus just a little. The taller skeleton looks both excited and slightly uncomfortable.

“great, that’s sorted,” Sans says. “so what am i supposed to do?”

“Keep watch over the humans,” Undyne tells him. “I still can’t help but feel like someone’s after them, too.”

Sans huffs, but he doesn’t complain like he normally would. Frankly, you’re surprised that he ever does complain about not having a big enough role, especially given how lazy he can be.

“I think that concludes this meeting,” Toriel says. “Unless anyone has questions?”

There’s silence. Toriel stands up.

“Then please get some rest and prepare for whatever may come of this,” she says. “I am going to retire. Good night, everyone.” 

With that, she heads upstairs, Asgore close on her heels. You see Undyne, Mettaton, Papyrus and Sans out of the house, though Sans lingers and doesn’t seem to want to go anywhere.

You get the feeling that you’ll be seeing him again tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fanfiction needs more Mettaton, just because he's my favorite. I love that sassy robot.  
> [Tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)


	38. MTT Airlines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things are things and words are said

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short, late chapter is better than no chapter...  
>  **(edit: i forgot to add the chapter title so it's there now ;w;)**

You need to get used to waking up next to a skeleton, you think.

You don’t remember him getting into bed with you, let alone coming back to Toriel’s after he had left with his brother last night, but as you’re waking up, there he is, clinging to you desperately, his strangely malleable face screwed up in what looks like pain. You feel a strong need to wake him up. You prop yourself up on your elbow as much as you can with his iron grip hindering your movement and lightly shake him by the shoulder.

His bones rattle.

You shake him a little more insistently, whispering his name. 

His sockets fly open, one blank and the other glowing a harsh blue, and you suddenly feel heavy, unable to move. It’s… scary, to say the least. You keep still while Sans studies your face, his left socket slowly dimming into the same blank nothingness as his right, for you to feel normal again, quiet apologies tumbling from his mouth. You use the back of your hand to wipe the sweat from his brow, your palm settling on his cheek, effectively silencing him as you settle back onto your side.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” you whisper. 

He makes a soft whimpering sound, taking in a shaky breath and working on calming himself down. You stay there, lightly stroking his cheek with your thumb, until he seems okay.

“thanks,” he manages.

“Of course. You okay?”

“better now,” he says. “‘m sorry i grabbed you like that, i--”

“It’s okay,” you tell him. “No harm done.”

He stares at you, his eye lights slowly coming back into focus. He offers a small grin, which you return, moving your hand from his face to the space between you. 

“time is it?”

You sit up again, leaning over him as you reach for your phone. You groan when it tells you the time.

“Not even six in the morning,” you grumble, flopping back down a little dramatically. You haven’t gotten up this early in a while, not since you were student teaching.

“shit,” he mumbles, rubbing a closed eye socket with the heel of his hand. “can we just… go back to sleep?”

“Yeah,” you say, pulling the covers back up over the both of you.

This is nice. You could get used to sleeping next to him. He may be a little uncomfortable to lay on or cuddle with, but he’s warm, and his light snoring is sort of like a lullaby to you.

You’re pulled out of your blissful nearly asleep state by a light knocking on your door, followed by the sound of it being pushed open. 

“My child? Are you awake?” Toriel’s hushed voice comes across, and even in her whispering, you feel that she’s a little too loud right now. You hear her come closer, stopping just a few feet from the bed. “O-oh. I did not know Sans was here.”

You hum, sitting up and looking over at her. She has a paw over her mouth as she looks at the two of you. Sans wakes up too, cracking open his eye sockets and staring up at her.

“g’mornin’, tori,” he mumbles.

“H-hello, Sans,” she says. She seems a little embarrassed. “I did not know that you two had been…”

“just sleepin’ next to each other,” he tells her. “no funny business.”

“Unless you want to count his terrible jokes,” you offer.

“i’ll have you know that my jokes are very  _ humerus _ .”

“We’ve heard that one a billion times, bonehead. Get some new material.”

He snickers, and Toriel seems to relax just a little. 

“Asgore and I will be leaving shortly,” she tells you. “Is it too much trouble to ask you to come downstairs before we do? Frisk is already awake, and they are not too happy that we are leaving on such short notice.”

“Yeah, uh, give me a minute. I’ll be right down,” you say. She nods and leaves the room, leaving you alone with Sans once again. You kick at his leg a little bit under the covers.

“you think i’m gonna let you out easy this time?”

You squint at him. “Come on, Sans, let’s go. We can’t keep them waiting for too long. They have to leave.”

He makes a noncommittal noise and slides out of bed, pausing to feel for his slippers on the floor. “if they weren’t leavin’, i’d still be sleepin’,” he grumbles.

“Meaning you would still have me trapped.”

“exactly.” He picks his hoodie up off of the floor and puts it on, shoving his hands in the pockets and looking over at you as you debate whether or not you want to bother getting dressed right now. You don’t want to. Instead, you look in the mirror and use your fingers to tame your hair as best you can within about five seconds and open the door, descending the stairs with Sans close behind you.

Toriel, Asgore, and Frisk are, as you would have guessed, at the kitchen table. The members of the monster monarchy are looking down at the human child, who is angrily spooning Cheerios into their mouth, making a point to look up and glare at their parents between bites.

“mornin’,” Sans greets them for the both of you. “what’s wrong, kid? what’d those cheerios do to you?”

The kid grunts at him, not bothering to sign anything. You don’t think they’ll talk until Toriel and Asgore are gone.

“c’mon, don’t be like that. uncle sansy will take you to do all kinds of cool stuff while your parents are gone.”

“Nothing too crazy,” Toriel says. 

Sans shrugs. Frisk looks interested, though. You raise a brow at the skeleton and head into the kitchen to obtain some coffee. 

“When do you think you’ll be back?” you call out to them.

“We are not sure,” Asgore tells you. “Mettaton is flying us out on his, er, private aircraft? It is faster than trying to get last minute tickets on a human flight. It depends on how long it will take for the human government to listen to what we have to say.”

“And I’m sure Mettaton will be keeping us updated,” you say.

“Undyne will be receiving information first,” Toriel says. “She is more… reliable.”

“that way, pap can do his job keepin’ the robot from saying somethin’ stupid,” Sans adds. 

You nod. That makes sense to you. 

“Anyways,” Toriel says, pausing to plant a kiss on top of Frisk’s head, “we will be back as soon as we can. Please be good and take care of the house.”

“Will do,” you say as she captures you in a hug. “You guys be safe, okay?”

“We will,” Asgore assures you when it's his turn to hug you goodbye.

Frisk seems to forget that they're mad and comes with you when you and Sans see them to the door.

“Do not forget to do the grocery shopping,” Toriel tells you. 

“I won't.”

“And make sure that you do the last of Frisk's lessons.”

“I will.”

“Do not answer the door if you do not know who it is.”

“I know.”

“Please do not forget that you can call me if you need anything.”

“Toriel, everything will be fine. I’ve got it under control.”

She lets out a slow exhale and smiles. “I suppose that you do, don’t you?” She pats your shoulder and looks to Asgore as he ducks out of the front door, mumbling something about making sure all of the bags are in the car. 

“sounds like you’ve  _ goat _ to get goin’,” Sans says, nudging her with his shoulder. She laughs a little at his antics and looks between the two of you.

“Nothing inappropriate while Frisk is around,” she warns the two of you, though it seems to be directed more at him than it is at you. His skull dusts a light blue and he scuffs his slipper against the ground, doing what he can to avoid eye contact with her. She offers you a smile and a final goodbye before she heads out through the door, prying a now-clinging Frisk off of her dress. You, Sans, and Frisk watch as she and Asgore drive off. 

That leaves you in charge of the house.

_ “Lessons,” _ you sign to Frisk. They groan and pout at you.  _ “None of that. Today and tomorrow are the last days, then you’re on vacation.” _

They light up at that. They bound away to the kitchen table, more than likely to get prepared. You should make yourself and Sans some breakfast. Looking down at your cooling mug of coffee, you think you should probably make another pot of that, too. 

“Is the floor still that interesting?” you tease, looking over at the skeleton, who’s still staring down at it.

“uh. nope.” He looks up at you, his jaw working like he wants to say something else, but he stops himself. You decide not to think about it right now.

You head into the kitchen, where Frisk is waiting patiently at the table, hands folded on its surface like they’re some kind of model student. Their worksheets are already spread out in front of them. Looking at them, you’re not sure that you really need to teach them anything; it’s mostly review for the tests you’re doing tomorrow to wrap up the school year. You give them a thumbs up and pour yourself a new mug of coffee before you join them at the table. Breakfast for you and Sans might have to wait for a minute. 

Sans takes a seat at the table as well, answering Frisk when they ask him questions about the science parts. It’s kind of nice, seeing them interact with seemingly no stress. You don’t think that Frisk is completely oblivious to everything that’s been going on, but they’re providing some sense of normalcy with their behavior. They end up taking more of your time than you expected, and by the time they’re finally done asking questions that they know the answers to and almost arguing with you about whether you’re right or now, the clock is reading nearly eleven. They run their worksheets upstairs with them when they tell you they’re going to get Flowey. You look across the table at Sans, resting your hand on the handle of your long empty coffee cup. 

“Should we think about making them lunch?” you ask.

“you can think about it,” he says, slouching in his chair. “there’s a reason pap does all the cooking in our house.”

You raise a brow at him. “Because if he didn’t, your meals would consist of ketchup?”

He shrugs, his grin morphing into one of amusement. “somethin’ like that.”

You make a face at him and stand, taking your mug with you to the sink. If Frisk can act like nothing’s wrong for right now, then so can you. You have to stay positive for everyone else and just wait to hear from Toriel and Asgore. 

“Any plans for today?” you ask him, busying yourself turning on the tap to wash out your mug and Frisk’s cereal bowl from this morning. 

“gonna stick to what i love the most,” he says. “doin’ absolutely nothing.”

You snort at him. “Yeah, okay. That helps me out a whole bunch.”

“what, were you hoping to do something?”

“I'm just not sure if we should keep Frisk in the house for the day or take them out to do something.”

“we took them out yesterday.”

“Yeah, and? What happened to Uncle Sansy taking them to do all kinds of cool stuff while their mom is out?”

He huffs. “she'll be gone for a couple 'a days, right? so i don't have to jump up and be the cool uncle right away.”

You turn off the tap and open the fridge. Maybe you should ask Frisk what they feel like eating. 

Right on cue, you hear the pattering of their feet and the sound of Flowey’s pot being set on the table. You turn to sign to them, but it seems that Sans got to it first.

“hey kid, you hungry? teacher’s thinkin’ you might be.” 

Frisk shakes their head and adjusts the way they have Flowey sitting in the sunbeam stretching out over the table. The flower gives you an odd look before he’s swiveled around to face the window. Part of you wishes the flower would talk to you a little more than what he does, and with a little more substance than sarcastic remarks and insults. Frisk always tells you he’s just shy and is bad at making friends, so you do your best to give him the benefit of the doubt. You’ll get him to talk to you at some point. 

Though somehow that feels like wishful thinking. 

You turn your attention back to Sans, who has started drumming his fingers on the table. He looks up at you when he feels your eyes on him. You wait for Frisk to bound off, taking Flowey with them (you wonder what the point of them putting so much care into how he was positioned on the table), before you sit at the table once again.

“I guess I’ll wait for them to be hungry,” you say. 

He shrugs, nods.

“You doing okay?”

Again, he nods.

“Is it the nightmare that’s bothering you?” you ask, quieter, a little more gentle. You’re concerned about the state he was in when you woke him up this morning.

He goes slightly rigid before he relaxes again and looks at you with an easy grin. “was better once i woke up and saw you,” he says.

“That sounded a little forced,” you tell him.

He chuckles. “yeah, a little. but i’m fine.”

“Are you really?”

He shrugs. “yeah. ‘s just a dream, none of it’s real.”

“I’ll still worry about it.”

“wouldn’t expect any less from you.” His gaze stays trained on you for a long moment before he manages to look away. “uh. i don’t mean to pester you, but--”

Frisk runs back in, signing rapidly with one hand about going outside and staying in the backyard. You nod, and they let themself out through the sliding door, slamming it shut as fast as they can behind them. You watch them bound out into the middle of the yard with Flowey.

“I know you want to talk about it,” you say, “and now is probably going to be the best chance we get.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...but it sets up for next chapter :3c  
> [Tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)


	39. The Talk™

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things are finally said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did someone ask for fluff?

Sans looks extremely uncomfortable all of a sudden.

You think that maybe he was secretly hoping that you would tell him that you can’t have this conversation right now, as you have the last couple of times he's tried to start it. Honestly, that would have been your answer if Frisk hadn’t bolted into the backyard to play with Flowey, but they did. So the two of you are alone and there’s nothing stopping you from having this conversation and figuring shit out like the two of you have needed to for a long while.

“You looked like you had a lot to say,” you start, trying to ease him into the conversation. He doesn’t look away from you, surprisingly. 

“just feelin’ like we should clear the air about everything,” he says. “tryin’ to figure out where to start.”

“The beginning’s a good place, usually.”

He shoots you an amused look. “hilarious. what, uh, would you consider the beginning of this shit to be?”

You think for a second. “We could go with when you walked out on me at Grillby’s and just about got yourself killed, or we could go with when you bit me.”

“the grillby’s thing was just me, uh, not believin’ you? i’m over that now though.”

“Obviously.”

He shakes his head. “then. biting you. that one was beyond my control kinda.”

“Explain.”

He finally breaks eye contact, looking at the napkin holder in the center of the table, and scratches the back of his skull. “ok, bear with me on this one. it’s a little weird explainin’.” He peeks up at you with a little bit of a hopeful expression, and you nod, willing him to continue. You’re all ears. “ok. monsters used to do the whole markin’ thing a lot more than what we do now. it’s pretty uncommon now. uh.” He pauses for a second, as if looking for words. “i guess, uh, bein’ drunk and all that made me act a little more on instinct than thought? maybe? i dunno, but, uh, it was kind of makin’ sure that… nobody would try to steal my mate?”

The last part comes out as a question, and he almost goes to hide his face behind his hands as it starts to turn more navy. 

“I don’t remember being asked to be your mate,” you say teasingly. It’s still not a good reason, but if it’s something instinctual, then you can’t completely blame him. Besides, you’ve already forgiven him for it. 

You can always blame Undyne and the alcohol she brought the two of you.

“because, uh, monsters don’t really… ask? they just kinda know when the person they’re with is the right one.”

You decide to wait for him to explain.

“kid, i don’t normally gotta talk about this stuff,” he says quietly. “this is a lot for me.”

“Do you want to hold off until later?” you ask, looking outside through the sliding door. Frisk still seems preoccupied with entertaining Flowey. 

“no, uh, we gotta talk about it,” he says.

“So. You just have this feeling that I’m your ‘mate’?” Keep the conversation going. You feel like asking him questions is easier than making him find the words to explain on his own. 

“yeah, somethin’ like that.” He shrugs. “been feelin’ it for a while. at least, i think that's what it is. tried to ignore it, tried to pretend that you didn’t actually have an interest in me. y’know, tryin’ to convince myself that i’m not feelin’ the way that i am, but, uh, that’s kinda hard when i’m picking up your soul almost before i’m picking up my brother’s.”

“What do you mean, picking it up?” Somehow you knew this would involve Souls in one way or another. 

He clears his nonexistent throat. “i think i’ve mentioned this one before, maybe, but since pap and i are family, i can pick his soul out of a group of other monsters real easy. makes it easy to find him if i’m lookin’. has to do with similar magic or whatever, some soul science stuff you wouldn’t be interested in hearing about.” He waves his hand dismissively. “but uh, yours is a little different. started bein’ able to find you even if i wasn't looking for you.”

“Sans, are you trying to tell me we're soulmates or something?” You keep your tone light, still teasing a little, trying to lighten things up as they start to get kind of heavy. He stares at you with wide, blank sockets, the blue across his face much darker than you've ever seen it. You doubt it  _ could _ get any darker now. 

“kid, that's not… i don't know? i-i’ve never done this before. i don't do romantic feelings and shit. i don't know what to call this.”

You get the feeling that a “soulmate” is something very different to monsters than it is to humans, or at the very least, it's a term that they don't use lightly. Well duh. It literally has the word soul in it. Good detective skills. You focus back on Sans, trying to ease up on the teasing a little. 

“Okay, relax. I was just messing around a little. I didn't know the term was so…” You gesture with your hands in place of words for a second. “So much more, I guess.” 

“s’ok.” He looks away from you once again as the two of you lapse into silence. 

Did you just fuck things up, or is he just taking a second to gather his thoughts? You’re more than sure that it's the latter, but you can't help but worry a bit. 

“Sans, I--”

“i'm sorry,” he says, cutting you off. “i've been a shit about all of this. coulda avoided a lot of shit if i had just acknowledged this in the first place, you know?” You nod your response even though he isn't looking. “kid, you're… somethin’ weird, different. i never coulda predicted you.”

That's… a bit of an odd statement, though definitely meant to be a sweet one, you think. He looks a little distant for a second before seemingly snapping back to reality.

“uh, i know 'likewise’ don't really cut it as far as confessions go, but. uh.” He shrugs, shutting his eye sockets and running them with the heels of his hands. Closed skeleton eyes still baffle you. “i don't know if i can do much more'n that? kinda why i did the thing.”

The thing. “The thing?”

“you know what i'm talkin’ about.”

“I kind of want to hear you say it though.”

“the kiss? that was a thing i did to hopefully make you know i wasn't kidding and, uh--”

“That's enough. That's everything I wanted to hear.” You stand and move so that you're standing beside him. He doesn't budge - actually, he freezes in place as you lean down and place a kiss on his cheek. 

There's wild tapping on the glass of the sliding door, and you look back to see Frisk pressing their face to the glass and giving the both of you two thumbs up and a giant, goofy grin. You feel your own face heat, and Sans throws up his hood and draws the strings as tight as he can before dropping his head into the table. Poor guy. You can vaguely hear Flowey yelling something about not wanting to “be in the house with those _disgusting_ _cretins_ ” (you make a mental note to flick his petals yourself this time, though you're pretty amused) as Frisk gathers him up and brings him into the house, dropping him at the table and clambering into Sans’ lap, effectively forcing him to sit up. 

_ *”Are you and Sans gonna be date friends now?” _

You cough. Sans wheezes. 

“hey, kiddo, i don't think you gotta--”

_ *”I can give you all kinds of advice. I'm the Underground’s master dater!” _

“don't think that's necessary.”

Sans looks up at you. You shrug and decide now might be a good time to make the kid a grilled cheese or something. You wander off into the kitchen and start gathering the materials. You can't see what Frisk is signing anymore, but you can hear Sans’ responses. 

“kid, i’m not about to…  _ no,  _ she and i ain't gettin’ married tomorrow. that's a little ambitious.” You hear Frisk snicker after a moment of silence. “no, i’m not gonna go sweep her off her feet and make out with her, least of all in front of you.” 

He sounds amused. Good to know that he and the kid are making jokes. 

“Sans, you want one?” you call out. 

“what you making?”

“Grilled cheese.”

“nah, all good.” You listen idly as he and Frisk go back to their conversation. 

This feels like a good resolution to all of that. He's not only acknowledging your feelings, but returning them as far as you can tell, and that's more than you had honestly expected from him. Yeah, a good resolution. You're willing to put aside the biting thing for good and see what happens with all of this now that the air is clear. It may just be you, but you think that there's a lot less tension hanging around the house. You finish making Frisk's food, get them a glass of milk to go with it, and set it at the table. Flowey makes a face at you, so you set to work making him one, too. Once that's done, he looks satisfied, devouring the food with a kind of savageness you'd expect to see from a starving animal. 

“So, you and the trashbag, huh?” he mutters, looking at you between bites. “I knew that would happen. I could see it from a mile away.”

Sans goes to say something to the flower, but you stop him by holding up a hand. 

“Good to see that you approve,” you say. Flowey makes a sound reminiscent of gagging before going back to his meal. 

“Now that that's out of the way,” you say, taking your seat again and folding your arms over your chest as you lean back in the chair, “what do we do with the rest of the day?”

“nothing,” Sans suggests. 

That's probably what's going to happen no matter what you try to get him to do, not to mention the fact that he took you and two children everywhere you wanted to go around town yesterday with very little complaint. He probably deserves a break.

He repeats what you said to the kid in his lap, and they shrug. They seem to be on the same page today. 

You, however, are having a hard time trying to justify laying around all day. You've felt so unproductive lately, and with one major obstacle dealt with, you feel like you could accomplish a lot today. After asking Sans to keep an eye on the kid - “don't worry, i'll keep an eye socket out for 'em.” - you head upstairs and get yourself showered and otherwise ready for the day, even though you're sure you won't be leaving the house. You dig your long unused laptop out of its bag in your room (you had gotten a new one after your apartment was ransacked, but you haven't found much use for it lately, having most of what you would normally use it for gone down the drain since the school fired you). Once you’re back downstairs with it set up at the table, you start scrolling through local job listings. You’ve barely done any searching. Sans looks over at you from his seat at the head of the table as Frisk scrambles away from him to sit with you instead.

“what you doin’?”

“Looking for a way to make money this summer,” you tell him. 

“i have a billion odd jobs if you wanna take one over,” he offers.

“I can’t help but feel like some of your odd jobs are a bit sketchy,” you joke. 

Frisk accidentally jabs their finger into your screen as they point at one of the listings. Muffet’s? You’ll write it down, make a folder to bookmark these listings in. Perfect. You go through a few more things, mostly writing down things that Frisk points at. A few more bakeries, a flower shop or two, a few coffee shops. Frisk sits with you until you fill out the applications for everything they’ve pointed out. 

With that out of the way, you feel that much better about your current situation. Frisk seems satisfied with your choices as well (and you’d hoped they would be, considering that they’re the ones who picked everything out for you).

You close your laptop and debate for a second on whether or not you should take it upstairs now or later. It’s probably best to just leave it for now. You look over at Sans, who has his head buried in his arms. His light snores tell you he’s fallen asleep. You reach over and push on his arm until he looks up at you.

“Wanna move it to the couch?” you ask.

“finally gonna take me up on the offer to do nothin’?” he asks, his voice a little raspy from sleep.

“I guess so.”

Sans stretches a little before he stands. He takes you by the wrist as you get up from the table and, before you realize what he’s doing, you find yourself falling onto the couch. You squint at him as he settles, draping one of his arms over the armrest and the other over your shoulders as you scoot back to lean against him.

“The couch is a max of like, thirty feet from the table,” you say. “You didn’t have to teleport.”

“but teleporting makes everything so much easier.”

You snort, opting to watch Frisk try to find something to watch on TV. They retrieve Flowey from the table and sit on the floor in front of you and Sans, not neglecting to turn around and give the two of you another thumbs up. They giggle when you stick your tongue out at them, and you focus on making yourself comfortable against Sans’ ribcage.

He falls asleep again almost immediately, and you find yourself dozing as well. You barely register your phone going off. You read the text from Papyrus stating that he and Undyne would take care of making dinner tonight, and you promptly forget about it.

Right now, you’re pretty sure you never want to move again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day <3   
> [Tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)


	40. Obnoxious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Undyne finds out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've totally overlooked the fact that we've hit a few milestones:  
> Over 20k hits  
> Over 1k kudos  
> Over 150k words  
> Nearly 300 of both subscriptions and bookmarks
> 
> Thank you guys, for sticking around for this long <3 It only gets better from here

You wake up when the front door is swung open violently enough that, despite the padding Toriel had installed behind it to stop the wall from being damaged, you think that maybe the wall was cracked anyhow. You scramble to sit up, but the loud and all too familiar “NYEH”s you hear coming from that direction comfort you immediately. That’s right, Papyrus had texted you earlier saying that he and Undyne would come by and fix up dinner for the night. That’s so sweet of them. You settle back against Sans, who twists his hand into your shirt as you do. This is nice. Naps are nice. Papyrus will see the two of you sleeping and leave you to do so until dinner.

Wait.

Papyrus and Undyne are here to make dinner.

Papyrus  _ and _ Undyne.

_ Undyne _ .

Shit.

You try to get away from Sans, to at least perch yourself on the opposite end of the couch, but his other arm snakes around your middle and pulls you closer when you try. Fuck. If there was one thing you wanted to avoid right now, it was Undyne and her teasing. Now, there’s no chance of that. Zero. You’re fucked.

“Hey, punks! Where the hell you hiding?”

Shit.

Frisk stands from where they were sitting on the floor, holding Flowey close to their chest as they bolt to the front door. You vaguely hear what Undyne and Papyrus say to the child, but the footsteps that are telltale signs of Undyne’s approach are much louder than they should be. You decide to close your eyes and pretend to still be asleep, even though you’re sure she could probably pick up on your fear. That just feels like something Undyne would be able to do.

The footsteps stop, and you hear a quiet snicker. “Oh man. Papyrus, come look. Be quiet. Holy shit.” 

Papyrus approaches, and from the sound of it, Frisk is close on his heels. The taller skeleton gasps a comically loud gasp, and you can hear him smack his hand over his own mouth.

“I owe Alphys so much money,” he whispers.

Undyne snorts. You’re sure that, even with your eyes closed, you know exactly what the look on her face is. You’re a little scared. You do your best to keep your face neutral. 

“Let’s go start dinner, yeah? The amazing smell of perfectly prepared spaghetti ought to wake ‘em up.” You hear the almost wet slap of Undyne’s hand on Papyrus’ shoulder, then their combined footsteps walking away.

Oh thank god. Undyne is merciful today. You fear a little bit for what’s going to happen at the actual dinner table, for what she might say to the two of you, but you’ll just have to deal with it. You’re the one who decided to be friends with her. You’re the one that decided to fall for the skeleton and then tell her about it. This is your fault. You brought this on yourself.

She’s just a jerk because that’s how she shows her affection, you tell yourself. You can’t fault her for being a good friend in the way she knows how, even if it is extremely frustrating and fear-inducing sometimes. 

Vaguely, you remember her suplexing Papyrus “to show their level of friendship”, and you hope that it never happens to you.

If the sound of the door being flung open wasn’t enough to wake you, then the sound of pots and pans clattering in the kitchen is. If not that, then the intense battle cries coming from the kitchen would absolutely one hundred percent do it. You grumble a little bit. You had actually been hoping that you might fall back asleep. It appears to be too late for that. Sans shifts a little, too, tightening his grip on you before letting go entirely. You sit up - the two of you had slid down the couch a little, putting yourselves nearly into a laying position - and look back at him. 

“your hair’s fucked,” he tells you.

“Thanks,” you say, making a half-assed attempt to comb it into submission with your fingers. “Figured it might be.”

He looks over into the kitchen. “undyne and my bro are here.”

“Yeah.”

“making food?”

“What else would they be doing?”

He shrugs, scooting himself so that he’s actually sitting up against the back of the couch. You stay on the middle cushion, decidedly not leaning against him again even though you would like to. There’s something about him that makes it so easy to relax and fall asleep. He looks at you for a second before pulling his phone from his pocket and busying himself with it, scrolling through something and snickering on occasion. You eye where your phone ended up on the floor and sigh. You could do what Sans is doing right now. You could distract yourself a little bit, free yourself from your post-nap boredom.

Are you going to?

Of course not.

Instead, you stare at the wall, a little out of it, not entirely prepared for dinner. You’re hungry. You haven’t eaten today. You hope that they figure out how to make things edible, though they’re definitely getting a lot better at the whole cooking thing. 

The door bursting open again catches you off guard. 

“OH! HE’S HERE!” Papyrus says excitedly, running out of the kitchen. As he passes you and Sans, he stops for a second, just about jogging in place, looking between the two of you a little nervously before continuing on his way to the door. As he comes back, he’s arm in arm with a certain entertainment-related robot who’s wearing sunglasses despite the fact that the sun is setting and he is indoors. He removes the fur (hopefully faux, you think to yourself) shawl from around his shoulders and drapes it over the back of the couch, giving you and Sans a knowing look. As Sans looks back at him, the amused gaze he held over the screen of his phone shifts to something a bit more annoyed.

“I hope you two are prepared for the most fabulous dinner of your lives,” he coos, a soft smirk playing on his lips before Papyrus leads him away with a nervous expression.

“what the fuck is he doing here,” Sans grunts. You pat his arm.

“I’m sure he’ll leave after dinner. Papyrus is probably taking the whole babysitting Mettaton thing as seriously as he takes any other task given to him,” you tell him quietly, looking over your shoulder at where the two disappear into the kitchen. 

“my bro’s work ethic is really the coolest, but sometimes, i wish he’d dial it back a bit.”

You catch yourself snickering at the angry skeleton. He turns to look at you, his expression mixed anger and confusion, though you know the former isn’t directed at you.

“what?” 

“Nothing. That’s just the most negative thing I’ve ever heard you say about your brother.”

“was just sayin’ that he’s so cool that he doesn’t know when somethin’ ain’t worth all that much effort. that ain’t  _ really _ negative.”

“You’re saying you wish he’d put less effort into stuff?”

“only when it comes to shitty robots that’re gonna ruin his innocence.”

Ruin his innocence? “Sans. Are you saying that they--”

A skeletal hand covers your mouth. “no. stop. don’t even wanna think about that.”

It takes him a moment to regain enough trust in you to remove his hand. But you can’t help it. A grin makes its way onto your face as you decide to continue. 

“I mean, I’ve seen the way they interact, and--”

He covers your mouth again, leaning in close to your face and levelling his glare with your gaze. “kid, you’re killin’ me. i don’t wanna think about that shit.”

You hold up both hands in resignation, and he backs off. He’s still pretty close to you though. The annoyance melts off of his face, and a flutter in your chest tells you that something might be about to happen, that maybe--

“Alright, you shits, get in here and eat!”

Undyne’s growl cuts through your thoughts, effectively startling both you and the skeleton beside you. You look back and up at her with wide eyes. Good lord, you’ve never seen the fish woman so amused, not once. She jerks her thumb over her shoulder, gesturing to the kitchen. You stand up, probably a little too quickly, because she barks out a laugh before she turns on her heel and marches back into the kitchen. Sans stands as well, and the two of you make your way to the kitchen table, where everything has already been served and it sitting there waiting for you. Undyne takes the head of the table, leaving the remaining five of you to sit at the sides, and Flowey in the middle with his own little bowl of just meatballs perched on the side of his pot. He doesn’t wait for anyone else to start eating before he decides to feed himself.

“So, you might be wondering why I gathered you all here today,” Undyne starts, rubbing her hands together menacingly. Everyone just kind of watches her for a second, and she falters. “No, really, I have something to tell you. Something Toriel and Asgore related.”

Mettaton tilts his head. “I’ll be recording this bit,” he says, “just to ensure that I don’t miss any little detail.”

“There aren’t many little details at all, though,” Undyne continues, and this suddenly feels like a business meeting. Or politics. Politics feels a little more fitting for the situation. “All Toriel can tell me is that the human government agreed to meet with them, and they’re doing that in the morning. They’re not letting her release any other information until after that. Also, she wanted you guys--” she points at you-- “to get the grocery shopping done tomorrow because she thinks she might be too tired to do it herself when she gets back.”

“Done and done,” you say. 

“Great. Now that the important stuff is out of the way…” She leans over her food, grinning at you in a way that feels extremely menacing, and pauses for dramatic effect. “Let’s eat before this gets cold. Papyrus and I put a lot of work into it!”

“THAT IS A GREAT IDEA,” Papyrus agrees. Mettaton smiles over at him.

Dinner goes surprisingly well, with idle chatter being made (mostly by Mettaton) and stories being told (mostly by Mettaton). It’s nice, like a normal night in the house of the monster monarchy, aside from the fact that the monster monarchy itself is decidedly not present in the current situation. Mettaton’s presence certainly goes above and beyond making up for that, though, you think. This has been a very nice, very peaceful--

“So, which one of you two are gonna bring it up?” 

You choke on your spaghetti and take a second to calm down enough before looking at Undyne incredulously. Her plate is clear, elbows on the table and her chin resting on laced fingers. Her head is tilted the tiniest bit, feigning innocence, but the smirk growing on her face tells you that she’s being much more sinister than she thinks she appears to be. Not that you don’t know better than to think she wouldn’t tease about this.

“bring what up?” Sans asks, pulling his bottle of ketchup a little closer to him. He looks about as uneasy as you feel. 

“Oh, you know.”

“can’t say i do.”

“You two cuddling on the couch? More than once in the last, like, week?”

Sans’ face lights up for a split second before he lets a relaxed grin spread across his face. “you best have a legitimate  _ bass _ line for that accusation.”

“Sans.”

“i just want this conversation to go  _ swimmingly _ .”

“You’ve used that one before,” you tell him.

“months ago?” he retorts, turning his attention back to Undyne, who’s busy pulling out her phone. She scrolls until she shows him a picture, and that’s that. His face lights up blue, and he stares at you for a long moment with nearly completely blank eye sockets.

“Oh my,” Mettaton breathes. “Have you two… Are you  _ bonded _ ?”

“no!” Sans says far too quickly. “that’s not… we haven’t…”

Papyrus reaches across the table and takes your hand. “I HAVE TOLD YOU THIS BEFORE, BUT YOU HAVE MY BLESSING. PLEASE MAKE MY BROTHER HAPPY.”

“Papyrus, I--”

“How romantic!” Mettaton squeals, standing and beginning to pose. Oh no, he’s really getting into this. Frisk actually gets up and joins him. “She had been so distraught about being marked by him, but  _ now _ , oh my goodness! The two of you are on the road to becoming bonded!”

“Marked?” Undyne growls. She looks both a little embarrassed and very amused. “Hoo boy, nobody told me about this interesting development.”

“It was a while ago,” Mettaton says. “Before my remade production of--”

“when we met spencer,” Sans cuts in. “when you left us with that bottle of whiskey and told us to have fun. that shit caused a lot of problems.”

“Oh man. And you guys told me that Sans just fell asleep. Oh  _ man _ .”

“He did fall asleep,” you say.

“So that’s why you’re not bonded. He couldn’t stay awake long enough to finish the job!” She snorts, her amusement only growing.

“UNDYNE, THIS IS NOT APPROPRIATE TABLE TALK,” Papyrus says nervously. 

“Can we please drop it?” you mutter.

“No. We can’t. Oh my god. This is so good. This is the best.” She’s cackling. “So, so then. What was today? All the couch cuddling? Are you two dating without telling me?”

Frisk walks across the table so that Undyne will pay attention to them. 

_ *”Sans has been spending the night a lot and sleeping in her room,” _ they sign helpfully. They look just as amused as she does.

Undyne is silent for a moment before she guffaws and slams her fist down on the table. “OH MY SHIT.” 

“Undyne, please, it’s not that big of a deal,” you say.

“Maybe if you hadn’t kept any of this from me, I wouldn’t feel the need to be so obnoxious right now,” she tells you simply.

“yeah, the obnoxious would be spread out over time,” Sans grumbles. 

“So couch cuddles  _ and _ bed cuddles,” she says, taking a breath and calming down a little. She seems to see that she’s been sprinting on the wrong side of the drawn line for a bit. “Meaning what? Meaning dating? A monster-human relationship?”

“No,” you say.

Undyne looks at you incredulously, her grin faltering, obviously taken by surprise. You look to Sans, who doesn’t seem fazed.

Technically, neither of you ever asked. 

“What do you mean?” Mettaton asks, obviously intrigued. Papyrus looks a little more nervous. 

“I mean that we aren’t dating,” you say. “We have feelings and we like being near each other, but that doesn’t mean we’re dating.”

“i’m good with what we’ve got right now,” Sans agrees.

You nod. Something about being on the same page with him on this feels a little weird and not right, but his words have truth. You’re content with him taking your feelings seriously for now. There’s just too much other shit going on to really warrant an actual, committed relationship right now.

Either that, or both of you are a little too scared to make it official.

“I-I mean, whatever makes you happy,” Undyne says. She seems to shrink back into herself a little bit, completely down from whatever high was making her so obnoxious about it. You shoot her a reassuring smile - no, really, everything's fine, and we’re not mad at you for getting excited about it - which seems to calm her a little bit. She returns your smile.

You know she only means well.

Dinner finishes up in near silence. You tell Undyne and Papyrus that you’ll take care of the dishes since they were nice enough to come over and cook for the house (of course, you shower them with praise because that was probably the best spaghetti they’ve ever made in a joint effort). As you see the three guests to the door - since when does Sans not count as a guest? - Undyne grabs your arm and leans in close to your ear.

“Don’t think I’m done with this bit of information,” she says in a low voice.

She releases you and disappears into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jk it gets worse Undyne knows now   
> [Tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)


	41. Mystery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which not much happens

Sans winds up staying the night with you again.

After you get Frisk tucked in and convince them to stay in bed, you get changed into pajamas and open your door for Sans to come in. He grins at you from where he had decided to sit on the floor to wait fairly patiently for you before standing and shuffling into your room. You get into bed and get yourself situated, lying on your side so that you’ll face him when he joins you. He climbs in as well after he shuts off the lights, pulling the covers up over both of you as he settles. In the darkened room, the lights floating in his sockets just barely illuminate his face.

“some dinner party, huh?” he comments in a near-whisper.

“Could have gone a lot worse,” you tell him.

“why do i get the feelin’ that undyne ain’t done talkin’ about it?”

“Because she told me she’s not.”

He grimaces, but smiles at you after a second. “too bad for her that we’re both comfortable like this, huh?”

You prepare to agree, but your heart drops. _Are_ you comfortable with this? All the talk about dating at the dinner table has made you kind of feel like… maybe that’s something you want with him. It’s been a while since you’ve dated anyone, having chosen to focus a little more on school and student teaching, but with that out of the window for now, you think that maybe you could make something like that work. You can see yourself committing to this particular skeleton. Monster-human couples aren’t _completely_ out of the norm, though you know how much shit they get...

“Yeah,” you say, feeling like it’s a lie. “Totally comfortable like this. But… if it goes somewhere more than this, I wouldn’t object.”

There, subtle way to tell him you think that you maybe possibly want something more. Cool. The look on his face is still relaxed, and you don’t feel any obvious signs of tension in him like you normally would.

“we’ll see where it ends up,” he says, taking your hand and placing it in the space between the two of you, twining his fingers with yours.

A little more idle chatter, and the two of you are out like a light.

 

 

He’s still there when you wake up.

The only con to that little tidbit is the fact that it’s hard for you to get out of bed when he’s still fast asleep. God damn heavy sleeper. Maybe you should consider making him let you sleep on the outside of the bed, but then again, you’ve always slept closer to the wall. It would be uncomfortable for you, maybe even for him, to switch places. You don’t know. Whatever. You kick at him until he stirs.

“Get up,” you groan. “I have tests to proctor.”

“that sounds boring as fuck. just keep sleeping.”

“But I have to,” you argue.

He rolls to face you and cracks open an eye socket. “what, don’t like sleepin’ next to me?”

“You are kind of hard to cuddle.” You poke his rib cage.

He snorts, rolling out of bed, and if you haven’t seen him do that before, you’d be sure he was just setting himself up to fall flat on his back on the floor. But, like always, he finds a way to twist and land on his feet. He looks back at you and holds out a hand to you like he’s some kind of gentleman. Somehow, that’s a little funny to you. You take his hand and let him help you to your feet, using your free hand to adjust your shirt and shorts as he does. He takes a moment to look you over a few times before he lets go, and you try to mentally prepare yourself for the day ahead.

You have to proctor Frisk’s tests. Set up some kind of testing environment for that, preferably one where Flowey and Sans won’t be around to bother them or offer help. These are just to make sure that Frisk is in the right place to move on to the next grade next school year, though you personally know for sure that there’s nothing to worry about. Whatever school they wind up going to, these should work in place of a placement test.

Or maybe you’re overthinking it a little bit. Whatever. It’s still important, and you can prove to Toriel that Frisk has improved since you’ve been teaching them. It’ll give you some credibility.

Though you’re sure that Toriel doesn’t doubt your abilities in the slightest.

After that’s done, you’ve got to go take care of the shopping for Toriel, which you’re not super worried about. Grocery shopping can be fairly therapeutic, you think. At least until you’ve been out for too long and you start to get stressed out. You remind yourself to go after everything frozen or refrigerated _after_ you get everything else. You’re vaguely worried about the company you might be bringing along with you, but it’s fine. Once it’s done and out of the way, that’ll be one less thing for Toriel to worry about.

And lord knows she doesn’t need anything else to worry about right now.

After the shopping is done, you’re pretty much home free. Good. You kind of have a game plan. You look at the time on your alarm clock. Just a little past eight. You’ve got tons of time to get these tests done in a timely fashion, no matter how much time Frisk decides to spend on them. Cool. Good. You’re all set and ready to go.

“I’m gonna go grab a shower,” you tell the skeleton that’s still staring at you. “Then I’m gonna have to give Frisk those tests. Do you think you could hang out up here until they’re done with ‘em?”

“you’re tellin’ me to stay upstairs and sleep more?”

“If that’s how you want to take it.”

“you can count on my cooperation, then, kid.”

You smile at him and give his shoulder an affectionate pat. “Thanks.”

With that, you leave the room, pull a towel from the hall closet, and get to work on your usual morning hygiene ritual. The shower leaves you feeling energized and ready to go for once. Alright! Motivation! This is a good feeling. You go back to your bedroom, shooing a lingering skeleton from it so you can get dressed. He offers to hide in your closet. The look you give him must look much funnier than it’s meant to, because he snorts and hides real laughter behind chuckles before waving and leaving the room. You know he’s going to just wait outside the door. You dress yourself in something comfortable and towel dry your hair before you comb it out and let Sans back into the room. He flops back onto the bed without a word. Good.

You get the materials necessary from the study and go downstairs. Frisk isn’t down here yet. That’s okay, you can let them sleep in a little. It’s still a little early, and they did stay up a bit late last night. You set a pot of coffee to brew and open the sliding door to see what it’s like outside. The morning air is still just the slightest bit cool, but it feels really nice. You don’t think you’ve seen Toriel turn off the heat and open up the windows yet this spring. The air in the house feels a little stagnant. Thinking about it, that’s kind of what they’re used to by now, isn’t it?

You decide that some fresh air never hurt anyone, and you shut the screen on the door and lock that instead of closing the door itself.

You strategically choose windows to open to make sure there’s a good cross-flow through the house on the lower level. It already feels a billion times better in here, even if the air outside is almost completely devoid of a breeze. It smells like the beginning of summer. That’s something you enjoy immensely. You head upstairs and start cracking open windows up there, starting with Toriel’s bedroom and moving down the hall. When you go into your room to open it, you see that Sans is already asleep again. You smile to yourself, watching him in such a peaceful state for a moment, before moving on. You peek into Frisk’s room, but you decide to leave theirs be for now. You’re sure that the sudden addition of cool air would wake them.

The coffee pot beeps, and you head back downstairs to obtain some. You make it up and sit at the table, scrolling through your emails and some social media while you enjoy your first two mugs of the stuff. This is nice. You like this peaceful quiet, broken only by the sounds of a few early morning cicadas and the chirping of birds.

Your reverie is broken by the sound of Frisk walking around upstairs. Maybe you should make them breakfast. Breakfast is linked to better test scores, right? Not that they need the help, but they need the food. Good idea, you. You get up and start putting together pancake batter. It’s quick and easy and you know that Frisk likes them.

As you’re finishing them up, you hear the child come down into the kitchen. They leave something at the table - a quick glance over your shoulder tells you that it’s their pencils and their pencil sharpener - and join you, peeking around you to see what they’re making. They give you a half-asleep nod of approval and pull a glass down from the cupboard, presumably to get themself either some milk or juice.

For a second, you consider making some for Sans, but he seemed so peaceful. You’re sure he’d do nothing but complain if you woke him to make him come downstairs just to eat and be sent away again. If he decides he wants food when he comes down, then you’ll make him some. Probably. It depends a little bit on how nice he is about it.

Frisk gets settled at the table after they spear some of the finished pancakes and put them on a plate, leaving you with what’s left. You grab butter, powdered sugar, and maple syrup, making a face at the sticky outside of the bottle. You set that down in front of Frisk, leave your plate at the table, and top off your coffee, then join them. They’re halfway through their syrup-soaked breakfast already. You feel your nose wrinkle. You opt to stick with the butter and powdered sugar for your own breakfast.

There’s minimal talking (or rather, signing) at the table as the two of you quietly eye the manilla folder holding Frisk’s tests. It’s labelled as such. There’s no hiding it. The child takes both of your plates once you’re done and comes back to obsessively sharpen their pencils.

_“Are you ready?”_ you sign when they look up at you. They nod, determination clearly written on their face.

You know that they’re more than ready. You hand them the first test - grammar and spelling, something that you know they won’t have too hard of a time with. They spend maybe half an hour on that one, even less when they get to the other subjects. By the time they finish up the science, only about an hour has passed. You’re impressed, to say the least. The clock is reading nearly ten. You give them the go ahead to run off and play while you break out your pen and get to grading with the help of the keys Mrs. Anderson had provided you.

The sound of shuffling alerts you to Sans’ presence before the sight of him does. It takes a moment for him to join you, but when he does, it’s with a steaming mug of coffee in hand.

“i feel like we’ve been spendin’ a lot of time at this table,” he comments.

You hum your agreement, double checking the kid’s division problems with the key. It takes you a minute to look up and say something. “Yeah. It’s been a little slow around here, all things considered.”

“almost no fun when we aren’t gallivanting around town, huh?”

You smile to yourself. “Well, I’ll be doing the shopping today if you want to come with.”

“only if you let me sit in the baby seat of the cart.”

You snort at the visual. It’s really amusing. You can actually see Papyrus making him sit in there if he’s really misbehaving.

“I’ll let you pick out what ketchup you get,” you offer instead.

He seems to consider it for a moment. “alright, fine. but you have to do something really embarrassing while we're there.”

You squint at him. “Why?”

“for fun.”

“Absolutely not.”

It's his turn to squint at you. “no fun at all. i'm hurt.”

“Behave or no ketchup.”

“my hands are tied. i'll behave.” He holds his hands up and gives you a slow wink.

“Good. When I'm done grading these, we can go.”

He pulls out his phone and scrolls through something or other while he drinks his coffee and waits for you to finish up what you're doing. Once you’ve finished grading Frisk’s nearly flawless end-of-year tests, you slip them back into the manilla folder and take them upstairs. You peek into Frisk’s room, where you hear Flowey muttering something to them. They’re sitting on the floor in the center of their room, making a face at the flower sitting in his pot a few feet away from them. The flower’s face is much darker and menacing than normal, and he seems to be trying to convince the child to do something that they don’t want to, especially by the way they’re furiously shaking their head. You knock lightly on the doorframe, more to get Flowey to shut up than anything else. He swivels his head around to glare at you.

“And what do _you_ want?” he hisses.

“To take Frisk with me to the store,” you say. “Do you want to come with, or do you want to sulk in a sunbeam?”

He makes a face at you. “Just leave me on the back porch when you take them to the store.” He looks pointedly at Frisk, who jumps up and goes to their sock drawer. They turn and wait for you to take Flowey and leave before they pull it open.

What an odd kid.

You decide to head back downstairs to wait for them. Sans seems about as ready as he's going to be, with his feet shoved in his slippers and his body slouched on the couch. Flowey grunts and nods back towards the dining room. Right. Back porch. You slide the door open and set him on the wood of the small deck in a fairly direct sunbeam.

“You're going to be okay or here by yourself?” you ask in a hushed tone, crouching next to him. “You won't get… chewed on by bugs?”

He snorts, actually sounding amused. “That isn't really a problem I have. Most living things won't come near me.”

“You sound fairly happy about that.”

“Get lost, babysitter.”

You shrug and stand. “Okay. We'll be back in a while.”

You open the sliding door and start to step through.

“Wait.”

You look back at Flowey, who seems to have spoken up reluctantly.

“Grab me a book off the shelf before you go, yeah? Something mysterious.”

You smile a little before heading off into the house. You head off to the bookshelf in the living room and peruse through the selection. You've been through a decent number of these books yourself since you've moved in, but you're not sure what all Flowey has read. You pick one of your favorite mysteries that you've read and take that out to him.

“Is this okay?” you ask.

He inspects the cover closely before clicking his tongue. “I’ve read it.”

Oh. You figured he might have, having lived here much longer than you have. “Let me go find another--”

“This is fine.” He turns away from you, opening to the first page. “I… like this one.”

You once again can’t help but smile. You feel like you’re getting a little closer to that conversation you want to have with him. Maybe he’s finally getting used to your presence.

“We’ll be home soon,” you tell him again.

You leave the back door cracked just a little when you head back inside, taking your bag as you pass it and slinging it over your shoulder. Sans and Frisk are waiting near the door.

“You guys ready?” you ask.

They both nod, and you open the front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you nothing much happens.  
> Except we learn that Flowey enjoys a good mystery novel.  
> [Tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)  
> ^(which I know I haven't been active on but I'll start trying to remember lol)^


	42. Life, the Universe, and Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “what, my extensive knowledge about ketchup doesn’t impress you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I physically could not have a 42nd chapter and not name it that.
> 
>  
> 
> **EDIT: I changed up some stuff towards the end and make the end of the chapter a bit cleaner. I'm posting from my phone so if the formatting gets a little wonky, I'll fix it once I have laptop in hand.**

    You barely have the key in the ignition when you suddenly get a bad feeling about bringing Sans with you.

    Before they had climbed into the back seat, Frisk had handed you a rather lengthy list left by Toriel, as well as the monetary allowance she had left to cover the cost of the groceries. It had been weird enough that they didn't sit on the passenger side of the car as they always do, but you had just brushed that off as their tendency to constantly change their mind.

Sans, on the other hand, spends the entire time driving out of the neighborhood pawing at the side of his seat. He flashes a look at you before with a loud noise, he falls backwards. Luckily you're the only one pulling up to the exit of the neighborhood when you slam on the brakes and look over at him.

“Sans, what the fuck?!”

“don't mind me, just relaxin’.”

Your gaze hardens to a glare as you will your heart to slow its rate. He scared the shit out of you with that. “Don't put my seat back that far.”

He has to prop himself up on his elbows to look over at you. “it's made to go back this far.”

“It makes me uncomfortable. And nervous.”

“why are you so against me using the seat to its full potential? the manufacturer _wanted_ it to be used like this. otherwise it wouldn't be an option.”

“Is it your job to be so ridiculously difficult all the time?” you ask, only slightly exasperated. You should be used to his shenanigans by now.

“yes.”

“Please put the seat up just a little bit. Please.”

He lets out a very dramatic sigh and puts the seat up so it's only slightly reclined. It makes him sit in a way that's very reminiscent of the way he melts into the couch at Toriel’s.

The rest of the trip is spent in near silence, broken only by Sans reading directions to a monster-run store that Toriel does all of the grocery shopping at. She had explained to you before that while it takes a little longer to get there, the food is guaranteed to be infused with magic and therefore can be eaten by anyone in the house. She also mentioned something about that being the reason that there’s special snacks hidden around the kitchen meant for just you and Frisk, stuff with no magic in it whatsoever. It probably isn’t all that healthy to consume only monster foods.

Whatever. You put your focus back on the road and try to ignore Frisk excitedly kicking the back of your seat.

Toriel was right. It takes about forty-five minutes for you to get there, and it's in the opposite direction of downtown. You can't say you've ever really been this far out, but you remember Toriel saying that this was one of the first stores to exist on the surface, being just on the edge on the quarantined zone to give monsters as much of a view of the town as they could get in their day-to-day business. The monsters running it must have liked the distance, because they haven't moved into the city like most others have. It's a fairly small brick building with a few windows in the front and one door that you have to push open.

A cute little bell chimes when you do, causing a bunny monster to look up from where they stand at the counter. They smile and wave after the initial surprise of what you assume is seeing a human in the store clears from their face, and you can't help but wave back. You don't see many bunny monsters in the city.

Frisk grabs a cart while you look down at the list. Most of it is just the essentials that Toriel keeps in the house, but with a few extra things thrown in. A limit of one snack for Frisk, ketchup (which you assume is because Sans has been spending so much time over there), and instructions for you to bring home anything that you'd like to try. Okay, you can do this. The list is ordered in a way that keeps your journey through here straightforward, going from one end of the store to the other, assuming that the aisles are labeled correctly.

You get down to business. Shopping isn’t your absolute favorite chore, but it really isn’t so bad. Actually, it’s kind of nice to do it for yourself for the first time in a long while. You’re not sure when you stopped; one day, all of your personal hygiene stuff started being restocked without you going to the store to get it yourself. You figure it’s Toriel doing you a kindness.

In one aisle, you allow Frisk to pick out their one allotted snack while you look for something that’s on the list. When you return, there’s twelve boxes of cinnabunnies in the cart. You cross your arms and give them your best “I mean business” look.

You hold up one finger, and they pout.

_*”Asgore lets me get a bunch of boxes!”_

_“Do I look like Asgore?”_ you sign back. _“One box.”_

They groan and start putting boxes back in a neat and orderly fashion, as if they’ve been through this before. You can only imagine what it’s like when Toriel takes them to the store. Or Asgore. He can’t help but spoil the kid.

You move on once you're done supervising the restoration of the cinnabunny shelf. You find yourself without a certain skeleton bothering you. Hadn't he decided that he would make you do something really embarrassing in public today? Instantly suspicious, you start looking around the store, only to find him hanging out in front of a rather diverse section of ketchups.

“have you ever seen something this beautiful?” he asks.

“Only every day in the mirror,” you say jokingly. “Come on, grab your ketchup so we can go get spaghetti stuff and get out of here.”

He looks at you with very obviously feigned offense. “you don't just _grab_ ketchup. you have to select the exact right one for your ketchup needs.”

“Sans, you get the same kind every time.”

“did you know that ketchup originated as a fish-based sauce?”

“Sans.”

“tomato-based ketchup is more of a modern invention. and a damn good one to boot.”

    “Sans, please.”

    “what, my extensive knowledge about ketchup doesn’t impress you?”

    You sigh. “You’ve told me two facts. And I don’t even know how true they are.”

    He squints at you. You hear something being dropped into the cart while your back is turned. You look over your shoulder to catch Frisk red-handed trying to sneak more cinnabunnies in. You shake your head back them and they march off.

    “This is so unlike them,” you mutter.

    You’ve never seen Sans look so proud.

    “You two made plans to get on my nerves?” you guess.

    “maybe a little.” He seems very amused.

    “That’s… frustrating. See if I ever take you in public with me again.”

    “you’re no fun today at all,” he complains.

    “I’m gonna go get spaghetti stuff,” you tell him. “I guess meet me at the register if you’re going to spend eight years picking out ketchup.”

    “naw, that was just to bug ya,” he says, taking a bottle of what he normally gets and sticking it in the cart before shoving his hands in his pockets.

    “I’m never taking you to the store with me again.” You’re half joking.

    “that’s ok. i’d rather lay around at home.” He offers you a wink, and you smile. You know that you can’t stay upset at his shenanigans for too long.

    You turn into the aisle that supposedly carries all of the pasta and… is that another human in front of all the pasta? That’s something you didn’t expect. The shopkeeper had seemed surprised to see you. It can’t be a common occurrence for humans to be here. Still, this one looks a little familiar somehow. The way they stand, the mop of blond hair that looks perpetually in need of a trim.

    “Spencer?” you venture.

    He jolts, then looks over at you. It takes a minute for him to recognize you, but when he does, he adopts a goofy grin.

    You feel Sans’ discomfort without having to look at him.

    “Oh! Hey! I didn’t expect to see anyone I knew here,” he says, a little sheepishly. “How’s it going? And Sans, it’s, uh, been a while, huh?”

    “heya.”

    “And the kid is with you!” he says when Frisk waves. He waves back. “You brought the whole brigade out, huh?”

    “Yeah, and they’re nothing but trouble,” you say. “So, what brings you all the way out here? We’re pretty far from town.”

    He gestures vaguely to the pasta shelves. “I made friends with this pretty cool monster,” he says. “We’re gonna have dinner together tonight and talk, and I’ve heard he really likes spaghetti, so…” He shrugs. “I dunno. Figured I’d get monster food because I’ve also heard that some can’t digest human food.”

    “That’s very considerate of you,” you praise.

    “I just, uh, have a question,” he says, his voice lowering. “This is gonna sound weird, but like, eating monster food? I’ve never done that before. Been too scared to try if I’m honest. It’s not gonna, like… hurt me, is it?”

    You almost laugh. “No, no, it won’t hurt you,” you assure him.

    “converts straight to energy,” Sans says. “nothin’ to digest.”

    “Oh, that’s… cool, actually.” His smile is genuine. “Thanks. That makes me feel a little better.”

    “No problem,” you say.

    A pause.

    “Do you guys… want to come over for dinner too?” he asks hopefully.

    That could be fun, you think, if Sans didn’t very obviously dislike Spencer. You think that you’d rather keep Sans happy and comfortable than please Spencer. Besides, it’s not like you can’t make a date to hang out with your human friends, all three of them.

    “I’m not sure if we’ll be able to,” you tell him. “We’ll have to set up another time, but we can really soon.”

    There. That should make them both happy.

    “Aw, alright, I understand that you’re busy,” he says. “But if you change your mind, let me know, okay? There’s always room for you three at my table.”

    You say your goodbyes - Frisk is getting impatient - and head to checkout. You all load the groceries into the trunk of your car and head for home. Sans is silent for the entire car ride back, as is Frisk. Normally when you’re in the car with them, you leave the radio turned off because there’s active conversation. This time, you’re filling the silence with music, though much quieter than you would listen to it if you were alone.

    Sans uses his magic to get everything put away so that he doesn’t have to manually help you. You head to the back porch to get Flowey.

    “You took longer than I thought,” he says.

    “The store was farther than I thought it would be,” you tell him as you pick him and the book up. “I’m sorry.”

    “...It’s fine.”

    “You got through that book awfully fast, though. It takes me a couple of days to read.”

    “I didn’t have any interruptions,” he reminds you. “And I’ve read it a million times.”

    Somehow, the way he speaks doesn’t sound like he’s exaggerating. You stop the involuntary shudder that threatens to come on before it starts and head into the house. You place him in the center of the kitchen table and set the book beside him, where an evening sunbeam is stretched out over the table. You feel a presence appear behind you for the first time in a while.

    “hey.”

    “Don’t sneak up behind me, holy shit, we’ve been over this!”

    Sans doesn’t look amused. “why’d you say no to spencer?”

    Wait… what?

    “I thought you’d be uncomfortable with it,” you say. “You don’t exactly like him, remember? I just didn’t want to put you into a situation you weren’t going to like.”

    “what monster do you know that wants to make spaghetti with every new friend he makes?”

    You pause for a second. Sans holds up his phone, revealing a text conversation with his brother where Papyrus states he’s having dinner with a new human friend tonight.

    “Papyrus is allowed to have friends that you don’t like,” you point out.

    “i don’t trust him.”

    “You don’t trust Papyrus or you don’t trust Spencer?”

    “Spencer. obviously.”

    You sigh. When you try to make sure he’s comfortable, you end up making the wrong decision anyways. “Well, what do you want me to do about it?”

    “tell him we’re coming after all.”

    Sans will forever be a mystery to you. “Okay, alright, fine. Go make sure Frisk is ready to go.”

    “You’re leaving again?” Flowey asks. “What the hell? You just got home.”

    “you can come with, centerpiece,” Sans grumbles as he heads off to find Frisk.

    Flowey hisses at him as he leaves. You send Spencer a quick text that plans have changed and you’d love to bring the gang to join him. You also ask if it’s alright to bring a flower monster that lives in a pot. His response is immediate and extremely excitable, including his address for GPS purposes. Sans returns from upstairs with Frisk in tow, who is signing something about the timing being great because they’re getting hungry and they want to play with Papyrus. They take Flowey with them in the back seat of your car and look out the window. The fun part is, you know exactly where you’re going and you don’t need the GPS at all. You wind up in the parking structure of the apartment building you used to live in. It’s been a long time since you’ve been here. Your old spot is taken by someone else’s car, and you’re glad that someone moved in. It was a nice apartment, just unsafe for you. You head up to the fifth floor, taking in all of the new security cameras that were promised to you when your apartment was broken into, and knock on the door that he told you was his.

    He opens the door, a wide grin on your face.

    “Glad you could make it after all,” he says, ushering all of you inside. “Wasn’t hard to find the place, right?”

    “I used to live downstairs,” you tell him wistfully. “No trouble at all.”

    He looks slightly surprised. “Really? And we haven’t met before? I normally do a good job of meeting my neighbors. How long ago did you live here?”

    “A couple of months,” you say, setting Flowey down on the end table next to the leather couch. It’s a pretty quaint setup, with a lot of photographs and portfolios scattered on the coffee table.

    “Oh. I moved in about that long ago. Maybe you were gone before I got here?”

    “Maybe,” you say. “Mine was the apartment that got broken into. You know, the reason for heightened security.”

    “Oh! Oh, man, I’m so sorry that happened to you,” he says. “Uh, the other guest is… Wait, shit, don’t you know him? Didn’t you mention him at Mettaton’s afterparty? I totally forgot. I’m the worst.”

    Sans’ suspicions were right.

    “WHO ELSE IS HERE?”

    Papyrus comes out of the kitchen, wearing an apron and a chef’s hat which, while comical, scares you. Spencer is letting him cook it by himself.

    “Hi, Pap!” you say quickly. “Why don’t I help you with that friendship spaghetti?”

    “BUT WE HAVE ALREADY MADE FRIENDSHIP SPAGHETTI TOGETHER.”

    “But it’s fun every time,” you urge. “Come on, let’s go.” You usher him into the kitchen again and take over stirring the pasta and the sauce. Good, it’s just started. He hasn’t had a chance to burn anything yet.

    “I didn’t know friendship spaghetti was such a big deal,” Spencer comments.

    “IT IS A VERY BIG DEAL,” Papyrus says. “UNDYNE AND I BECAME EXTREMELY CLOSE WHEN WE STARTED COOKING SPAGHETTI TOGETHER. IT HAS BECOME TRADITION FOR NEW FRIENDS TO COOK SPAGHETTI TOGETHER IN ORDER TO ENSURE A LASTING FRIENDSHIP.”

    “Then… should I be helping?”

    “Yes! That’s a great idea!” you offer, coming back out. “Pap, go give that sauce a stir, huh? Spencer will be right behind you.” You stop Spencer before he can venture into the small kitchen. “Don’t let him burn it. Supervise him, but don’t tell him what he’s doing isn’t right,” you whisper.

    Spencer looks a little confused but gives you a thumbs up before heading into the kitchen.

    Before long, everyone is around the kitchen table, Flowey in the center. The spaghetti turned out pretty good, actually. Sans sings praises as he normally would.

    But everything feels a little tense.

    “So, uh, how did you all… meet?” Spencer tries.

    “I was Frisk’s translator at the elementary school,” you say. “I thought I told you about that?”

    “Did you?”

    “I might have. I thought I did.”

    “how’d you meet my brother?” Sans asks. There’s some underlying hostility in his tone that frankly, you’re not entirely sure Spencer has picked up on.

    “Oh, we were both at Mettaton’s studio. He was… supervising the newscast or something, and I was there on photography duty for publicity reasons. This whole brouhaha with monsters blowing those people up? It’s ridiculous. We want everyone to see that monsters want nothing more than to live peacefully with humans.”

    “and who’s we?”

    “Me, the guys who run the website that’s been hiring me to do photo ops with monsters. It’s kind of a support website, raising awareness to help the monster cause.” He shrugs. “I doubt monsters would do something like try to force humans Underground. It just sounds wrong. No monster I’ve ever met has been vengeful like that.”

    “DO YOU SEE WHY I HAVE BEFRIENDED HIM?” Papyrus says proudly. “HE WANTS TO HELP US AS MUCH AS THE OTHER HUMANS AT THIS TABLE.”

    Frisk gives a thumbs up despite not having heard a word Spencer said. Sans makes a face and pokes at his spaghetti, muttering something about not believing him. You don’t think Spencer heard him. Good. Sans can have his temper tantrum all he wants. You’re pretty sure that half of his problem is the fact that he thinks Spencer likes you a little too much.

    “I’m very glad you’re on our side,” you say to him with a kind smile.

    Spencer stares at you for a second. “You know, sometimes you talk like you’re not human at all. Like you’re a monster.”

    You shrug. “I get that a lot.”

    “she’s one hundred percent devoted to us,” Sans says.

    Somehow you can feel that there’s two edges to that sword.

    “YES, SHE HAS ASSISTED US IN MANY WAYS SINCE SHE BECAME FRISK’S SCHOOL HELPER,” Papyrus agrees. “I DO NOT KNOW WHERE WE WOULD BE WITHOUT HER.”

    Frisk nods along enthusiastically.

    “I’ll admit, she has brought us a lot of information about what’s been going on around town,” Flowey adds. “She had that connection to the cult for a while. She’s been fairly useful.”

    “Aw, Flowey, are you complimenting me?”

    “Shut it, I just said that you’re useful. In the same way as a hammer is when you need to put nails in something.”

    “That’s nicer than anything else you’ve ever said to me.”

    The flower scoffs.

    “Uh, well, that’s… really cool. I didn’t know I was becoming friends with some monster-helping superstar.” He grins that doofy grin again. “This is cooler than I thought.”

    You can’t help the warmth spreading in your chest at the compliments. Yes, you _are_ very devoted to these monsters that you're proud to call your friends, though you weren't really aware that you had helped as much as they say that you have.

“You know,” Spencer continues, almost a bit cautiously. “If I can help you out in any way, let me know. Working on projects to keep you guys in a positive light is definitely fulfilling work, but if I could be more… active, I guess? Then I'd really like to be.”

How sweet.

“If there's anything you can do, I'll be the first to tell you,” you tell him.

“YOUR SUPPORT ALREADY MEANS THE WORLD TO US,” Papyrus tells him. “I AM VERY GLAD THAT WE BECAME FRIENDS.”

Sans shrugs, and while you can still feel some level of discomfort coming off of him, something is giving you the idea that maybe his brother's unrelenting trust in Spencer is keeping him more or less calmed.

The rest of dinner is absolutely pleasant, with Sans dropping his mission to insult Spencer and openly be distrustful and opting to keep his mouth shut. You're pleasantly surprised. Mostly, you're just happy to see your friends all enjoying themselves and each other's company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still too lazy to edit. One day I'll go back and edit all the chapters. Eventually.  
> This chapter was kind of hard for me to get put together in a way I liked so this is what happened, merry christmas  
> [Tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)


	43. Interrupted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the author writes some words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so guys, the time has finally come   
> After such a long wait...  
>  **It's smut time**  
>  There's some plot points in the beginning and at the very end if you're either underage or smut is not your thing. I need to really urge you to not read the smut if you're underage, pals, because I can get in some real trouble for that.

During the next few weeks, a couple of things happen.

First, Spencer starts texting you at least once a day, normally to ask if there’s anything he can do on his end to ease some of the tension around the whole faux monster propaganda thing. You always tell him no - you wouldn’t bring in his help without Toriel’s say-so, and you’re not sure what all he  _ could _ do to help - but he always understands. It’s a predicament that this town hasn’t seen before. At least, not according to Ebott’s history books. You also notice that, when you actually let him engage you in conversation for a little while, that he occasionally tries to nudge the conversation down a bit of a flirtier road. You always shut him down, but if you’re honest, it’s a little cute. Papyrus innocence puppy dog kind of cute. Spencer is kind of a goober.

You got a few interviews and callbacks, and you now work at a flower shop. It’s downtown in a small shop and you don’t hate the work or the people you work with. When you had called Toriel to tell her, she insisted that you continue to hold off on looking for apartments, which both you and she know very well would be the next step. She wants you to wait to apply for one until she’s back home and everything is settled. You agreed, but that’s not stopping you from looking.

Toriel came back about a week and a half after she and Asgore had left. By then, she had already been gone a lot longer than you had expected her to be, and none of you had heard much from her or Asgore if anything at all. She hurriedly gathered Frisk up and packed a rather large amount of their clothing as soon as she stepped foot in the house. She told you (you had been the only one home for once) that there was a little headway made with convincing the human government that the very last thing monsters would want to do is push humans into the Underground.

 

“I do not understand how they could think that of us,” she had said, obviously exasperated and stressed. Even her usually pristine fur looks a bit mussed. “We have done nothing but comply with their rules.”

“I know, Tori,” you had replied. “It’s stupid. Monsters would never hurt a fly, and if humans could figure that out, this wouldn’t be happening.”

“It is like you have said a million times,” she went on with a sigh. “Humans are instinctively against anything that is different than them.”

You shook your head. “I hate that it’s the truth, but it is.”

 

She and Frisk had been gone for about three days when you started having weird dreams. You’d almost call them nightmares, but there’s no lingering fear when you wake up like there is with every other nightmare you have. It’s sort of… strange. You sit in a small, dark room at a small metal table and look at photographs of your memories, all while a tired sounding voice pokes out of every shadow in the dimly lit room to narrate what had happened on the day that memory was saved. The voice also instills a sense of doubt in the motives of your friends in your mind that you have a hard time shaking. There’s no real reason for the doubt, but something about it has been sticking with you throughout the days. You think that Sans has noticed something a little off with you, because he’s been keeping a closer eye on you. He probably doesn’t think that you’ve noticed it, but you have. It’s a little hard not to feel his gaze burning holes in you when you’re not looking. 

 

“Sans,” you say for the millionth time today. He stuffs his face back in the book he's been pretending to read just to look back up casually.

“yeah?” 

“Don't think I don't feel you staring at me.”

“dunno what you're talkin’ about.”

“I'm not stupid.”

“heya not stupid, i'm sans. sans the skeleton.”

You cross your arms as you walk over to where he sits on the couch. “You know you're not funny.”

“you're right. i'm hilarious.”

You let out a noise of frustration. He sighs and sets the book down, looking around to make sure that Flowey isn't in the room. You're not sure why he bothers; Papyrus had insisted on taking the potted monster back to the skeleton residence for a change of scenery. 

“look, kid. a guy can be worried about his... whatever you are to me,” he says. “you’re actin’ weird and jumpy and i want to make sure you're okay. i'm still no expert on human anatomy or the mind or whatever.”

“Right. Because you're an astronomer.” You plop on the couch beside him. 

“Physicist,” he corrects you.

“Same thing.”

He looks at you in horror. “there is a  _ massive _ difference between an astronomer and a physicist.”

You wave your hand dismissively. “I know. I’m just messing with you. I’m not totally uneducated.”

He grunts. “yep. ok. so are you actually doin’ okay?” 

“I’m fine, Sans. Weird dreams is all it is, I told you that.”

“but every night for the past two weeks?” 

“It happens. I’m sure whatever it is that’s bothering me will go away soon enough,” you assure him. “Shouldn’t we be worrying more about what’s going on with Toriel and Asgore? That conference was supposed to last a weekend, not over a month.”

He shrugs. “it happens.”

“Someone must be pushing to keep the monsters basically on trial,” you murmur. 

Another shrug, another grunt. You lean against him. You may sleep in the same bed as him nearly every night, but you’re still surprised at how uncomfortable it is being against him. He shifts a little in the way that he’s learned will make you complain about how hard his bones are less than you normally would. He lifts up his arm to wrap around your shoulders and uses the other hand to hold his book open while he resumes reading.

The only thing that hasn’t really happened in the last month is any progress with Sans and whatever is going on between the two of you. You’ve been trying to keep it as secret as possible, even though the two of you are more than certain that everyone knows (well, you know for sure that at least a few people do). In public, you don’t touch each other at all. Around the house, you don’t do much together unless you’re more or less alone, and even then it’s mainly hand holding and such. It’s pleasant to be able to sit together like this. Sure, you cuddle up at night, but that’s behind closed doors. This feels more… public. More of what you wanted.

You’re just not sure if he’s on the same page or not.

Whatever. You had decided at the start of this that you’re just going to sit back and let this run whatever course it runs and you’ll do your best to be patient with it. It’s not just about you and how you feel. It’s about him, too. 

You do get bored, though. Cuddling on the couch is nice and all, but so is the fact that he’s less weird about you initiating physical contact. He says it’s to get you to keep quiet, but you think that he likes being close, too. Wasn’t he the one that started sleeping in your bed in the first place? You think he’s a little too proud for his own good sometimes.

You decide to poke at his ribs through what you think is his favorite NASA shirt. He squirms, but keeps reading. You do it again. You move around to different ribs. Would he be offended by that scene in that one movie where the skeletons use each other as instruments? Maybe you’ll make him watch that movie sometime. You continue poking at him.

“whatcha doin’ there, kid?” he asks. He sounds almost nervous.

“Bothering you, obviously,” you reply. “I’m bored. I don’t work today. Literally nobody is home but us. Papyrus took Flowey somewhere and I’m not sure where. Undyne is busy as usual. Alphys is still off doing sciency stuff.”

“i get it, woe is you,” he responds, “but that doesn’t mean you gotta get all grabby with my ribs.”

“I’m not getting grabby,” you argue. “I’m poking. But okay, if you want me to stop, I’ll stop.” You pull your hand away from him. 

“hey, i, uh, i never said that you had to stop,” he says faster than you’ve ever heard him say anything. It’s almost as fast as when Alphys gets off on one of her anime tangents.

You peer up at him. Is this…? You’ve wondered about how skeletons do the sex thing if they do it at all. He almost looks hopeful, but that’s almost completely masked by hesitation. Aw, he’s scared? Not scared, you think, just expecting you to say no. You  _ could _ reject this poorly hidden request, but then again, you’re kind of curious. 

“w-we, uh, don’t have to.”

Eh, what the hell.

You put your hand up the front of his shirt and gently trace your fingers along the outsides of his ribs. You can faintly feel the indents and cracks that line them. You peek back up at him again. His expression is still lined with his nerves and dusted with a faint blue, but he seems like he’s expecting something. Okay? You have your reservations about sticking your hand on the inside of his ribcage but--

If that little noise he made is any indication, you’re probably doing something right.

“You do realize that I have no idea what I’m doing, right?” you murmur. He chuckles.

“ok, hold on, i’ll talk you through it,” he offers.

He sits up, and you retract your hand. You sit back as he pulls off his hoodie and shirt and leaves both of them on the floor beside the couch, the book he had been reading falling with them. He scoots so that his back is against the armrest, and you sit on your knees between his legs. Sans takes your hand and guides it back to his ribcage. 

“the outside is nice an’ all, but inside’s more sensitive.” He coaxes your hand where he wants it to go.

“I’ve always wanted to feel up the inside of a skeleton,” you say sarcastically. It’s kind of weird doing this. The bone is smooth and warm and there are still a few places where you can feel old cracks. 

“now’s your chance,” he says with a wink. He lets go of you and lets your fingers wander. 

You give him an amused look before lightly brushing your fingertips over each rib in turn, starting with the two lowermost and working your way up. He lets out a pleased sigh. You press your fingers against his sternum drag them downward, observing the tiny changes in his expression. His eye lights are trained on your face, seeming both brighter and a little more hazy around the edges at the same time.

“Good?” you try.

He nods, reaching out to pull you closer. He rests his forehead in the crook of your neck. He’s a little sweaty. You decide to continue your exploration by feeling around the vertebrae of his spine, letting your nails scrape against the bone. He arches into your touch, letting out a sound halfway between a sigh and a whimper. Okay. You’re definitely doing something right. Feeling the slightest bit more confident in your actions, you continue to trail your nails down his spine until you reach where the arches of his pelvis peek out of his shorts. 

Your confidence fades.

“Sans, you’re supposed to be talking me through this,” you say.

“but you’re doin’ great.”

You look at him almost indignantly though you know he isn’t looking. He fumbles with the button on your pants for a moment before sliding his fingers into your waistband. His bones are almost a little cold. He takes his time in squishing at your hips. 

“on the other hand,” he murmurs into your neck, breath hot, voice husky, “i’d like to do a little exploring myself.” 

Sans works your pants down your hips a bit, then reaches up to bring your panties down with them. Your chest flutters, the heat pooling in your abdomen undeniable. If your heart wasn’t pounding before, you have no doubt that it’s audible now. You can almost feel his grin growing smug in time with your shuddering breath. He nips at your neck as he moves to knead at your thighs, to grab your ass, and you hook your fingers in his ribs to try to support yourself. 

A minute or two go by where nothing else happens. Okay? He seems a little tense. You’re pretty sure that he doesn’t know where to go next. You give him a few more seconds before you decide you’re right.

“Here,” you say, taking one of his hands and guiding it between your legs. 

He feels around a bit clumsily before he finally brushes against your clit, making you suck in a breath. It feels a little weird, definitely different from human fingers, but it doesn’t feel bad. He tries that movement again, as if gauging your reaction. And again. And again until he finds the pace that makes your breathing become shallow and quick.

“is this good?” he breathes against your neck. 

The only thing you can do is nod and hold on as he works you up and brings you closer to--

He stops. You whine, but he shushes you.

“someone’s here,” he whispers. You tense up. Yup, that sounds like car doors closing. Sounds like a key in the lock.

Shit shit shit. He pulls his hand from you and you scramble to get your pants back up to where they’re supposed to be. He throws his shirt over his head just as the door opens, and he leans back against the couch, book in hand, trying to look as if he’s calm. You sit on the opposite end of the couch and try to look preoccupied with studying your nailbeds. 

You feel the anger coming through the door before you feel it. The telltale pawpads-on-wood sound that means Toriel is here is much heavier than usual, as if she’s stomping.

“Everyone who is in this house, go sit at the table.” Her command sounds like nothing less than a roar. She rounds into the living room as you’re getting up to comply. 

“Is everything okay?” you ask her gently. 

“Everything is absolutely not fine,” she huffs, though she does take a second to pat your head. “Would you please call Undyne and Papyrus here, my child?”

“Yeah, of course,” you say.

“i got paps,” Sans pipes up, setting the book down once again.

You pull your phone from your back pocket and dial Undyne, explaining quickly and quietly that everyone is needed at the house. You hang up and take your usual seat at the table. After a few moments, Asgore comes into the house looking rather grim with Frisk in tow. Following behind them is a very serious looking Mettaton and an extra nervous Alphys. It takes no more than twenty minutes for both Undyne and Papyrus to arrive, Flowey being set in the center of the table as usual. It’s silent until Toriel seems to lose her patience.

“Alphys,” she says. “Would you care to tell everyone why they are gathered here?”

“U-um…” The yellow lizard looks down at her fidgeting claws. “Well, uh, y-you see…”

“You will be given the chance to explain, do not worry,” Asgore says in an attempt at comfort. Toriel shoots him a dirty look.

“I-I-I know who F-Froggit Face is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for always being patient with me, guys. I appreciate it. We're getting back on track from here on out!   
> But who could Froggit Face be?! Let me know what you think in the comments or on [Tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)!!


	44. Alphys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we find out.

Everyone stares at Alphys in disbelief long after her words have settled in. 

She… knows who Froggit Face is? You’re more than shocked. How long has she known? Is she telling everyone now because she’s recently found out? Has she known all along? You try your best to take a deep breath and calm your thoughts. Whatever it is she has to say, you know that she more than likely has a good reason for whatever actions she took. You decide to give her the benefit of the doubt.

Toriel, on the other hand, doesn’t look so merciful. 

“Tell them what you told me,” she says sternly. “ _ Exactly _ what you told me.”

“U-uh…” Alphys looks up at Undyne for a moment, who nods with a solemn expression. 

“Just start from the beginning,” Undyne says gently, placing a hand on Alphys’ still fidgeting claws. 

“W-well, it started when…”

* * *

 

Alphys was going through the papers on the table, frantically searching for any of the notes on the CORE and the machine that could have possibly been left behind. They couldn't have taken  _ everything _ . There had to be one thing, one piece of paper with some note scribbled in the margins that's crucial to the construction of the machine that they would absolutely need but don't have because it's  _ here _ , somewhere in these piles. 

She found a piece of paper with a note on it, signed with a Froggit drawn in the corner. 

_ “Below is an address. Meet me there, Dr. Alphys, and do not tell anyone. I'm counting on you, and so are the lives of your friends.” _

You and Sand had finished talking, and you looked back to her. She half-crumpled the paper and shoved it in the pocket of her labcoat.

* * *

 

“So you went,” Undyne says. 

“Y-yeah. I d-didn’t know what might happen if I didn’t, s-so…”

Alphys looks up to you and meets your eyes. You give her a soft smile and a nod of encouragement. 

“We’re listening,” you tell her. “Don’t worry. You can keep going.”

She takes a steadying breath and nods.

* * *

 

Alphys showed up at the address on the note. It was the middle of the night - three AM, to be exact, as the note specified. She had told Undyne that she would be at the lab overnight trying to recover her notes. She had been done lying, she had thought, once Frisk came along and helped her set straight. Now here she is, lying to the love of her life to go meet up with the face of the force against monsters. What has her life come to? She thought moving to the surface would be a fresh start…

Well, this is definitely a fresh new threat.

She knocked carefully on the door. It’s a little hunting cabin in the middle of the woods, frighteningly close to the base of Mt. Ebott. That alone was enough to freak her out a little bit. She watched the door nervously as the sound of footprints came closer. It’s happening. She’s meeting the person that is out to kill her friends.

The door opened, and…

What did she expect?

At the door was the same figure in a red hoodie and a Froggit-shaped mask that she had come to know as Froggit Face. The empty eyes of the face of the monster breed she’s known all her life stared into her very Soul, it felt like. She hated it. It almost made her feel queasy. 

“Hello there,” he said. “Come in. Make yourself at home, Doctor.”

That’s… surprisingly polite, she thought. But she knew better than to let her guard down. This was a human, something that could kill her in one hit if it had the intention. She kept her head low as she allowed herself to be ushered into the sparsely decorated cabin.

She took a seat on the hard sofa as instructed while he went into the small kitchen. There was some clattering, the sound of the faucet running for a moment, and then he returned with two glasses of water. He set one down in front of her and sat in the chair across from her, his own glass in hand. 

“I’m not here to quarrel,” he said. “I’m not here to hurt you. Actually, I need you, Doctor, and so does someone else. Someone I’m close to calling a friend.”

Alphys looked up at him. He still hadn’t removed the mask. 

“I’ll only remove it once I’m sure I can trust you,” he said. He almost sounded amused. 

Of course. How stupid could she be? Alphys nodded, still not averting her gaze. She glanced at the glass of water in front of her. Even if she’s thirsty, she won’t accept it. Who knows what’s in it.

“I suppose I should tell you what I need you for,” he went on. “Remember that you don’t really get a choice in the matter.”

Of course not.

“You see, I have a major issue with your kind,” he said. “Frankly, who doesn’t? Monsters were under the mountain for a good reason and there’s no reason for them to be up on the surface with humans. It just wasn’t meant to be.” He set his glass down on the coffee table. “Someone came to me in my dreams. I know, it sounds so very cliche, but listen. He spoke to me in my dreams, told me of a way to bring him back to this world. We need you to fix it.”

“I-is that…” She swallowed. Just speak. “I-is that why m-my notes were stolen?”

“Obviously,” he replied. “The notes for this… machine were required. But it looks like they’re a little unfinished.”

She stared at him. 

“I know who has the blueprints already,” he said. “I just need you to tell me where they are.”

“Th-they aren’t mine to g-g-give away,” she tells him. If she can hold him off a little bit, maybe he won’t keep asking her, maybe he won’t make her do anything, maybe he’ll decide she’s useless…

He laughed.

A laugh has never chilled her to the core like that.

“Dear Alphys,” he said, “I told you that you do not have a choice. Do this for me, and I won’t kill your friends.”

She told him where to find Sans’ notes, his blueprints for the machine, anything that he would need to do what he had to do. She had requested that he leave her out of it now that she’s done her part. He had laughed at her once again. There was so much more that he needed her to do. After all, he needed magic.

* * *

 

“Do you really think he could kill us?” Mettaton asks quietly. He’s surprisingly foregoing his usual dramatic flair. 

“he definitely has the intent,” Sans comments. “he almost got me.”

“Because he did not really want to kill you,” Toriel says. “Perhaps because Alphys cooperated?”

“N-no,” Alphys says. “I-it was more than th-that.”

Sans looks at her. “you know, alph, i’d kinda like to know what you mean by that.”

* * *

 

For weeks, she holed herself up in her lab at the university, working on the blueprints based on what information Froggit Face brought her every morning. Occasionally it would be over a phone call, sometimes he would send one of his cronies with a notebook, sometimes he’d bring the information himself. He said everything was instruction from the “divine presence” that had made a home in his dreams. He had mentioned the name of this presence a few times, and while she couldn’t place a face to the name, it filled her with great unease. It made her feel… unworthy. Not ready for her work. But she pushed through. Every time she resisted, something would happen. Sans had already come very close to being killed. She hoped he was just an example - he’s fairly easy to kill, only having one HP - but then again, knowing what some of these notes said, it had to be more than just that. It had to do with that “divine presence” and his will. 

She feels like a terrible person for wishing he had only been an example.

Still, she dealt with the constant threats and worked her tail off to fix the machine. She purposely blundered more than a few times, trying to find a way out, trying to  _ make _ herself seem useless so she didn’t have to come back and so that she could go back to being trusted by her friends. She missed them. She missed Undyne. She wasn’t coming home until long after her mate was fast asleep. What a shitty existence. 

But then again, if she could make it through this, she could find out who Froggit Face was, and then tell Toriel, tell Asgore, help get rid of that threat, be a hero--

No, that was going too far. She would never be a hero. She’d be stripped of her title once again just because she cooperated at all. But why would she refuse if it meant her friends dying? This seemed like a better option, as much as she hated it…

Eventually, he came to her when the machine was being built. He removed his mask and introduced himself.

She did not recognize this man.

He took a pair of round, wire-rimmed glasses from his pocket and put them on over his dark eyes. They looked like they desperately needed an adjustment. Pulling back his hood, he revealed his thinning hair, wrinkling skin, not at all the mastermind Alphys had expected to see.

“Sh-should I know wh-who you are?” she asked skeptically. 

“Of course you wouldn’t, but your human friend would,” he said. “After all, I hired her as Frisk’s translator, didn’t I?”

* * *

 

You and Toriel exchange glances. Knowing she had heard this before, she still looked completely baffled.

“so... it’s not spencer?” Sans asks a little incredulously.

“You thought it was Spencer?” you ask disbelievingly. 

“uh. well.” He shrugs. 

You’ll lay into him later. “So… the principal? Why the principal?”

“I-I don’t know,” Alphys tells you. “H-he never r-r-really told me much, other th-than he hates monsters…”

“and more importantly, this divine presence or whatever?” Sans goes on. “tell me what he said the name was.”

This in itself seems more urgent than the identity of Froggit Face. You can feel the tension rolling off of Sans in waves. 

“U-uh… it was… Gaster?”

The tension turns into something you’ve never felt from Sans before.

Pure, unadulterated fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you weren't expecting that.  
> [Tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)


	45. Distraction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The entire second half of this is smut  
> Gotta thank [Andra](http://archiveofourown.org/users/QuitePossiblyInsane/pseuds/Andra%20Nycly) for doing the beta thing for the smut stuff because boy am I not totally comfortable writing it yet lmao

“Sans?” you try gently, going to put your hand on his shoulder. He flinches away from your touch.

“sorry. uh.” He shakes his head, almost spacing out as he looks down at the table. “i think i need to, uh, go to bed.”

“Do you know this… Gaster?” Toriel asks him. 

Just the name itself causes him to flinch once again. “we may have met once or twice,” he mumbles under his breath. “really. i need to go to bed.” 

He stands from the table and looks at you for a long moment. You think he’s trying to communicate something to you. You decide that you’ll come upstairs once he’s up there and you think he’s settled in. Maybe he’ll be more willing to talk in private.

“Go ahead,” you tell him. “I’ll fill you in later.”

He nods, looking both exhausted and appreciative, before heading upstairs. You watch after him for a moment before turning your attention back to the table.

“Papyrus, do you know what that was about?” Undyne asks the other skeleton.

“I AM NOT SURE? BUT THAT NAME DOES MAKE ME FEEL UNEASY,” he replies. 

Somehow, the name makes you feel uneasy, too, but that could just be because of Sans’ reaction. You try to shrug it off, as well as the fact that Papyrus seems to be directing his statement at you. Maybe it’s just your imagination.

“Okay. So. We know who Froggit Face is. Gaster, whoever that is, is coming back. Alphys helped them, but only to protect us,” you say, trying to summarize. “Is there anything else we need to know?” 

“U-um… Not really? The machine is a-almost fixed, but only S-sans would really know what to do with that information, I think,” Alphys provides.

“The only thing left to know, then, is how to approach this,” Toriel says. “We know who the threat is. There is nothing stopping us from apprehending him now.”

“But what are we gonna do once we have him?” Undyne asks. “I mean, we could question him, keep hold of him, submit proof that everything is his fault to the humans, but would that actually be the end of it? Would the humans even believe us?”

“There is no telling if that would be the end of it,” Asgore says, “especially if this Gaster fellow is going to be a threat.”

“We don't even know what he wants,” Undyne agrees. 

“We will come up with a plan,” Toriel says. “Until then, act normally. Alphys, continue to meet with him as he requests. We will find a way to put an end to this.”

With that, you think the conversation is over. Everyone sits at the table for another long moment before Undyne ushers Alphys from the house, whispering to her about how proud she is of her for speaking up. They're always so supportive of each other. You stand as well. 

“I'm gonna go check on Sans,” you say, mostly to a worried looking Papyrus. 

“RIGHT. WELL. TAKE CARE OF MY BROTHER FOR ME.” He fidgets for a moment like he still has something to say, but he doesn’t continue.

“Of course,” you say. You try your best to give him a reassuring smile before you head upstairs yourself. 

Your bedroom door is closed, which means Sans is definitely sulking in there because you always leave it open during the day. You knock lightly on it before you let yourself in. Sans is sitting cross-legged on your bed, petting a very inquisitive Neo that’s circling around him and rumbling in contentment. Sans doesn’t even glance up at you.

“The cat seems happy to see you,” you comment.

“he’s always happy to see me,” he says. 

Silence fills the space between you. You close the door behind you and sit next to him on the bed, giving the cat a few scratches under the chin.

“I’m always pretty happy to see you,” you say.

Neo flops down on his side, eyes half closed, pressing his face into Sans’ outstretched hand. 

“i’m usually pretty happy to see you, too,” Sans tells you.

“I’m glad we’re agreed.” You let it become quiet for another short moment. “Are you… doing okay?”

“yeah.” 

“You’re full of shit.”

“...yeah.” 

You do nothing more than look over at him.

“You know I won’t force you to talk about it,” you tell him. 

“but you wanna know what’s goin’ on.” He shrugs. “gaster and i knew each other once, shit ended badly, no big deal.”

“It seems like a pretty big deal to me, what with the way you reacted to hearing his name.”

“yeah. well. you’d react pretty badly if you heard your dad was basically comin’ back from the dead,” he mutters. 

Oh. Yeah. That would definitely put a damper on things. 

“Sans… I’m sorry.”

“ain’t your fault. just him not knowin’ when to fuckin’ quit.” He shrugs again. You don’t even know what else to say. 

He scoots closer to you, effectively edging Neo off of the bed, until his knee presses against your thigh. He clears his nonexistent throat. This particular bout of silence definitely makes you aware of some unfinished business. The vibe you’re getting from him makes you think that maybe he’s aware of the same thing.

“wanna, uh, help me take my mind off it?” he almost whispers. You look over at him. His eyes are on the floor, blue dusting his features.

Yup. Totally thinking the exact same thing. Though part of you thinks that maybe it’s not a good idea right now.

“Are you sure? I mean, some heavy stuff was just put on us--”

“all the more reason to not think about it.” He shifts so that he’s facing you and sitting on his knees. He’s starting to lean over you in a very insistent way. 

“You’re barely giving yourself time to process it.”

He backs off a little. “if you don’t want to, uh, you know. that’s fine. you can just tell me and i’ll drop it.”

“Wait, no, I do want to,” you assure him. He goes back to slowly coaxing you into lying down. “I just don’t want you to use that as an excuse to forget about--”

“ain’t forgettin’ about anything,” he tells you, teeth grazing against your neck. Oh boy. “just. shush. if you want to, then i ain’t stoppin’.” 

He bites down on you, just hard enough to make you gasp as your head hits the mattress. He steadies himself with one hand next to your head and lets the other travel south. He takes much less time getting your pants undone than he did the last. You lift your hips and assist him in taking them off, after which he leaves them crumpled on the floor. He sits up and wads up your panties in his hand, then presses them to his face, inhaling deeply. Heat creeps up on your face and wells in your gut. Shit. He continues to edge backwards until he’s seated between your legs. 

“remember to tell me if i’m doin’ ok,” he tells you quietly as he takes one of your legs by the ankle and starts to lift it. He leans forward and lets your leg rest on his shoulder. You look up at the ceiling when you feel his hot breath on the inside of your thigh, and you jolt when a warm wetness that is entirely not yours slides up between your folds.

Holy. Shit. He’s got all this talk about how he has no idea what he’s doing when it comes to pleasing a human but this boy is a goddamn virtuoso with that tongue of his. You mentally curse him just once before you let his actions take over every thought in your head. He takes his time in exploring you, lapping at your clit almost lazily before dipping his tongue just barely inside of you and dragging it up to repeat. The breathier your moans get, the more encouraged he seems, applying more pressure and letting his teeth graze over you ever so gently, sending more sparks through you than he already was. 

You feel yourself getting close too soon, far too soon. You fist the sheets and do nothing to hold back your whimpers.

“Sans… I’m gonna--”

You barely get your words out before he plunges two fingers into you, pumping in and out without breaking stride in his merciless ministrations on your clit. The pressure continues to build, your legs barely shaking and your toes start to curl, until it feels like a dam breaking. Stars of light dot your vision as you tense up, tightening around his fingers. You desperately try to muffle yourself with your hand when you cry out.

He leans away from you, letting your leg fall onto the bed beside him, eyes hooded. He makes a show of removing his fingers from you and lifting them to his face to lick all traces of you from them. He looks awfully smug.

“good?” he asks.

“You’re a fucking liar,” you pant. “I thought you didn’t know what you’re doing.”

“i don’t,” he tells you. “i pretty much followed instructions i found on a forum online.”

You squint at him. “Give me back my pants.”

“ok, fine,” he says, leaning over the edge and throwing your jeans at your face. “just remember that next time, it’s my turn.”

You try to keep yourself from blushing too furiously when you stand, yanking on some new panties. That’s probably good enough. You shut off the light, crack the door so that Neo can escape, and climb over Sans to get into bed. He snuggles up behind you.

You try your best to ignore the not-so-mysterious part of him pressing into your back even after his snoring starts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)


	46. Mocha and Cinnamon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we see some friends.

When you wake up, Sans isn’t there.

Welp, there go your plans for the morning.

You lay around for a little while, hoping he’ll come back. It’s strange being in bed without him. He doesn’t come back. You pick up your phone to check it for messages. It’s still fairly early in the morning, so the lack of notifications isn’t surprising, but you thought Sans would at least leave you some explanation of where he’s gone. You stand, stretch your arms up over your head, and dig some pajama bottoms out of your dresser. You need to do laundry. You get the pants on and take your phone with you when you head downstairs. 

You peek into the living room before you go into the kitchen to look for him. He’s nowhere to be seen. You check outside, looking at both the back porch and the front. He must have gone home or something. You send him a text asking if everything is doing okay and head back to the kitchen to make some coffee.

Strangely, you don’t hear anyone else in the house. It’s well past time that Toriel and Asgore would be waking up, and you’ve never seen either of them sleep in. Maybe they went out, too? Everything just feels odd this morning. You didn’t hear any noise from Frisk’s room, either, and normally they wake up when Toriel does. Even Flowey seems to be gone.

The coffee pot beeps, letting you know that it’s finished. You pull a mug down from the cabinet and get your creamer from the fridge. Make up your coffee, sip in silence. This is fine. Actually, the house is almost a bit spooky when no one is around. One of the windows in the living room has been left open, and the curtains flap kind of noisily. You finish your coffee. Rinse out your mug. You don’t work until the evening, so you’ve got ten hours until you need to be there for your shift. What to do with that time. Part of you feels like you need to be productive. You eye your mug where it now sits in the sink and decide to wash it. There, the lone dirty dish taken care of. 

You waste a couple of hours watching television, catching up on some cooking shows that you haven’t been able to watch since you’ve gotten your new job. Not the productivity you were hoping for, but it’s something. You figure you probably need a shower and head upstairs to take care of that, as well as brushing your teeth. You check your phone one more time once you’re dressed. Still nothing. You stare at the screen for a long moment before you dial a number and press the phone to your ear.

“ _ Why the hell haven’t I heard from you lately _ ?” You hear some chattering in the background. She must be out and about.

Ouch. Your eardrum. “Sorry, Ken. Things have been... busy.”

“ _ Busy my ass. What’s up? You sound out of it. _ ” There’s laughter in her voice.

“Nobody’s home,” you tell her. “And I don’t work until later. I wanted to know if you--”

“ _ Say no more. Come pick me up from the Starbucks by my place, yeah? The one on the corner by the dentist’s office? We’ll find something to do. _ ”

“Actually,” you try again, “I was wondering if you’d come with me to go check on my mom.”

Kendra is silent for a moment long enough that you think she may have hung up. 

“ _ Of course I’ll come with. Stupid. You don’t even have to ask. _ ” You can hear her smiling at you. “ _ Come pick me up. _ ”

“On the way. Don’t leave before I get there.”

“ _ I’ll buy you a coffee or something. _ ”

She hangs up before you can protest, because she knows damn well that you will. Whatever. Another cup of coffee downed before you go see your mom won’t hurt you any. You check yourself in the mirror one more time - you don’t care much about those dark circles under your eyes right now - and head downstairs. You shut the window in the living room before you head out, locking the door behind you. 

Your car probably needs a tuneup soon. It’s been a while since you’ve taken it in. You’ve always been pretty good about routine maintenance. Your father all but drilled that necessity into your head. You shake your head and try not to think about him too much so that you can keep a smile on around Kendra. You don’t need her drilling you about him again - she was pretty devastated when you finally told her, and she had been up your ass for about a week with her condolences and offers to do stuff for you. You really appreciate her. She’s always stuck her neck out for you, but since you met the monsters and got caught up in the cult nonsense, you haven’t seen her nearly as much as you should. Or Nolan.

Kendra lives not too far from where your old apartment was - actually, her complex is one that you’ve been looking at. Right on the corner of that street is a Starbucks, which has a small parking lot between it and a small family dentist office. You pull into a spot and get out of your car to go find Kendra.

She’s sitting at a table off in a corner, looking like some kind of candid photo you’d see on social media. She’s doodling on a coffee cup with black Sharpie. You walk over and tap the table, breaking her out of her reverie. She smiles at you and turns the cup around. She’s surrounded your name in hearts and stars. You can’t help but smile at that, too. 

“I’ve missed you,” you tell her, sliding into the seat across from her. 

“I missed you too,” she replies, holding your hand on top of the table. “Are we heading off to your mom’s now, or..?”

“Let’s wait a minute,” you tell her. You think for a moment. “Hey, do you know if Nolan is busy? He likes my mom.”

“I can call him,” she offers.

You shake your head. “I think he’d like it if I did,” you say. “I mean, you were pretty happy to hear from me, right?”

“Happier than you’ve ever made me. So happy I could marry you.”

You chuckle as she points out the hearts all over your cup again. You take a sip as you pull your phone from your bag. Mocha, sweetened just right. You can roll with that. You give her a thumbs up and call Nolan.

“ _ Where the fuck have you been? Holy shit. _ ”

“Been in my house. And at work. Where are you going to be today?”

“ _ A whole lotta nowhere, my love. _ ”

You make eye contact with Kendra. “Wanna come with me and Kendra to check up on my mom?”

“ _ Uh, duh. I’d clear my schedule in a heartbeat if I had a schedule. Where should I meet you? _ ”

“Well, I picked Kendra up,” you tell him, “so I could pick you up, too, if you want.”

“ _ I’ll await your arrival with bated breath, _ ” he says.

“Want anything from Starbucks?”

He scoffs. “ _ You really think I’d drink muck from that overpriced, over-hyped Seattle joint? _ ” You wait a second for him to speak again. “ _ Yeah, whatever you’re drinkin’, sweetheart. _ ”

“Stop pretending you hate it so much,” you tease. “We’ll leave once I’ve got it. Give us... twenty?” 

“ _ Not a second more. _ ”

The two of you hang up, you take another drink of your coffee, and you head up to the counter. The barista looks a little frazzled and unsure of what he’s doing. He must be pretty new.

“What can I get you?” he asks once he’s gotten himself a bit more composed.

“A large caffe mocha, please,” you say. Oh, that’s right. “Ah, and if you’ve got any cinnamon hidden back there, could you sprinkle some on top?”

“Cinnamon?” he repeats. Shakes his head. “Yeah, of course.”

He gives you the price and you pay the man, telling him to put Nolan’s name on there. You wait patiently for him to finish making it for you, and you watch him sprinkle a tiny bit of cinnamon in it. He peeks up at you. You nod. He adds more and looks at you with a raised eyebrow. You give him a thumbs up. Nolan really likes the way cinnamon tastes in just about any type of coffee. You don’t really understand it, but you figure you can surprise him with your absolutely magnificent memory.

“Here you go,” the barista says, offering you a sunny smile as he puts a sleeve on the cup and hands it to you. “Have a good one.”

“You too.” You return his smile and head back to Kendra, stealing her Sharpie off of the table to doodle some hearts around Nolan’s name. There, now you match. 

“Let’s go grab him and get going,” you tell her.

“Are you sure she’ll even be home?”

“Where else would she be?” you ask. “She declined the offer to come live with me at Toriel’s, said she wanted to keep dad’s memory alive in the house. Says she has no intention to move.”

The two of you leave the building, the bell on the door chiming lightly as you open it. Kendra takes Nolan’s drink and puts it in the cup holder once she’s in the passenger side. You hold hers while she buckles up and then hand it back to her. Yours goes in the other cup holder, and the car is started up.

“Where does he live again?” you ask her, almost sheepishly. 

“How are you going to give him a time estimate when you don’t even know how far away he lives?” she says. You shrug. “Turn right out of here. He’s not that far.”

Kendra gives you directions through the city, and it turns out that your time estimate was pretty accurate. He’s waiting outside of the complex, smoking a cigarette. He drops it and snuffs it out with his sneaker when he sees you pull up to the curb, a giant, shit-eating grin across his face. He bounds over and gets into the back, scooting into the middle seat and decidedly not putting on the seat belt.

“This car doesn’t move and Nolan doesn’t get coffee until all seats are buckled,” you tell him.

“Jeez, mom,” he grumbles, doing as you said. You hand him his coffee and he takes a greedy gulp. “Aw! You remembered to ask for cinnamon.”

“Is it good enough?” you ask him. “I didn’t sweeten it or anything.”

“If you had, the cinnamon would have been a no-go,” he assures you. “It’s all good. So, why are we off to see mama bear?”

“She’s living in that huge house all by herself,” you say. “I feel bad. She won’t move in with me. I just want to make sure she’s alright.”

“Okay, cool.” He slumps back against his seat a little more. 

There’s a little silence while you drive. For about ten minutes. Kendra keeps looking back at Nolan. They’re communicating with their eyes again. This can’t be good. 

“So, friend,” Kendra starts. “Anything... new?”

“On what front?” you ask. 

“Oh, just--”

“Skeleboy!” Nolan cuts in. “You bone the boneman yet?”

“Are you guys an item yet?” Kendra adds.

“I’m not sure what we are,” you tell them. “We sleep in the same bed-- Nolan, if you don’t stop shaking my seat, I won’t finish. Stop it.” He stops. “We cuddle at night. Hold hands or cuddle on the couch if no one’s home, but not a whole lot more than that.”

Except yesterday. Yesterday had some stuff happen.

“You’re not disclosing all the facts,” Kendra points out. “The redness of your cheeks gives it away.”

You shake your head, try to concentrate on the road. Is that person riding your ass? They totally are. Any closer and you’ll brake check them. 

“Uh. Yesterday something happened a little bit,” you offer.

They’re silent, but you can see Kendra’s grin next to you and Nolan’s in the rear view mirror. 

Brake check the car behind you. He backs off a little. Wow, you’re lucky today.

“We were cuddling on the couch, nobody was home, and I was poking at his ribs? I guess that was kind of a sexual thing for him because we started fooling around a bit.” You sound surprisingly nonchalant about it, but on the inside, you’re screaming out of embarrassment. “But. Um. People came home so we had to stop.”

“No you didn’t,” Nolan says.

“Yes, we did,” you say. “I’m not going to fuck a skeleton in front of the nice goat lady who lets me live in her house free of charge and the small child that also lives there.” He huffs, and you continue. “Anyways, later that night, he asked me to help him get his mind off of some stuff, and I guess that involved him going down on me.”

There’s one more bout of silence.

“That’s it?” Nolan asks. “You didn’t suck him off or anything?”

“I guess I didn’t get a chance to,” you say. “I could have? But he said next time it’s his turn. I was gonna this morning, but he wasn’t there. Nobody was home.”

“Weird,” Kendra comments. 

“Super weird,” you agree. “No messages or anything from anyone. I mean, I know they’re all safe, so I’m not super worried, but...”

That’s a lie. You are pretty worried. They all just disappeared but you have to remember that you can trust them. They know what you’re doing. These are the top monsters from the Underground, the king and queen. Wherever they are, they’re most likely with Sans, who can teleport them out of a dangerous situation no problem if something happens. You have to remember that nothing bad is going to happen to them. You can trust them to take care of themselves.

At least, you hope you can.

You make yourself shake the feeling and focus on getting to your mom’s house. You answer the rest of their very invasive questions up until you’re ready to round the corner to pull into your mom’s driveway.

Except you can’t. There’s a moving truck in the driveway, men pulling furniture and boxes from the house at an alarming rate. What the fuck? You pull up to the curb and get out of the car, barely remembering to get your keys out of the ignition. 

She never told you anything about moving. She hasn’t spoken to you since she called you to tell you she’d be fine on her own. Granted, you could have reached out, but there’s so much that could have happened in that time span. Froggit Face knew where she lives, you realize, immediately jumping into panic mode. What if something happened to her? You wouldn’t know yet. You don’t see her outside or in any of the windows. 

“Did you know she was moving?” Kendra asks. Even she sounds awfully worried.

“Uh, no. No, I didn’t,” you tell her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who orders stuff from Starbucks with the names they have for their sizes anyways? I don't.  
> I set a schedule for myself and now I'm behind lol  
> [Tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)


	47. Everything is Alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yeah, rub his super hard hand bones all over my back."

You waste no time heading up to her front door, weaving between moving men. Kendra and Nolan are both hot on your heels. You head through the open door without bothering to take off your shoes. Not that it matters right now. You look around all over the bottom floor. There’s boxes stacked high, most of the already sparse furniture is gone. Nothing’s in the kitchen at all. You go upstairs and start opening doors. You check the bedrooms, knock on the bathroom doors. Nothing. The only door you haven’t opened is the one to your father’s study, but you’re not really sure you want to go in there.

Still, you push it open, revealing your mother, her back turned to you. You breathe a sigh of relief.

She turns to look at you. She looks awfully tired, but somehow, she’s kept the light behind her eyes alive. She actually seems to be in high spirits.

“I wasn’t expecting visitors,” she says, holding her arms out to you. There’s a picture frame in one of her hands. You walk forward and accept her hug. “Though I’m very glad to see you, dear. And Kendra and Nolan? I haven’t seen them in so long. How are you two doing?”

“Pretty good,” Kendra says.

“Can’t complain,” Nolan agrees.

Your mother releases you and smiles at them, at you. “What brings you by?”

“I wanted to check on you,” you tell her honestly. “I hadn’t heard from you in a while, and I know I could have called you, too, and I feel awful that I didn’t, but--”

“Oh, hush,” she says, patting your shoulder. “I know. But I’ve been very busy lately, actually. Since your father’s funeral--”

“Dad had a funeral?” You stare at her as she falls silent. You weren’t told anything about a funeral.

“More of a... remembrance ceremony. There, um, wasn’t anything to bury, as you know.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” You try not to let the anger bubble up in you, but you can’t help it. No matter how rocky your relationship with your dad was, you’d still want to go to his funeral. Remembrance ceremony. Whatever.

“I, um...” She sighs. “I have no excuse. I’m sorry. It was awfully close to when it happened and I know how traumatized you were, I didn’t want to make you relive it or something like that.”

Her hand on your shoulder feels really heavy. You shake your head.

“Okay. That aside.” You take a deep breath. “What’s going on? You’re moving? You didn’t tell me about that, either.”

“That’s why I wasn’t going to move in with you, dear,” she says. “Oh, honey, don’t give me that look. Do you remember your aunt Karen? My sister? She never came around much, but she and I talk on the phone every day. She lives a few towns over, about a three hour drive from here. She offered to let me move in with her and your uncle Marv.”

“And you accepted? When I’m right here?”

She keeps the smile on her face, but her eyes look pained. “Yes. I figured that you’ll be getting an apartment and moving out of that house sometime soon, and I wouldn’t want to impose on your kind monster friends.”

Something tells you that she just doesn’t want to live with monsters ever, that maybe she’s against them about as much as your father was, but that could just be the anger that you’re trying to suppress about the funeral.

“But... everything else is okay?” you ask. She nods.

“I’ve been just fine. I went out there to visit a few times, to get my room ready. They’ve got room for all of my furniture, did you know that? I really don’t have all that much in this big old house, do I?”

You shake your head. “Nope. You really don’t.”

There’s silence for a moment. You can feel the awkwardness in the air.

“...Okay. So. I guess. We’ll get going, yeah?” You look back at Nolan and Kendra. They both nod. Your mom nods as well. “Thanks for, uh, being okay, I guess. And don’t think that we’re not going to be talking about the fact that you didn’t tell me about my own father’s funeral.”

“Of course, honey. I’ll see you later.”

You wonder how long it’ll actually be before you see your mother again. Will she want to see you before the move is over? Whatever. You’re already sick of this situation. There’s bigger things to be worrying about, like the safety and well being of all of your monster friends.

You, Kendra, and Nolan see yourselves out of the house and climb back into your car. You rest your forehead against the steering wheel. Kendra rubs between your shoulder blades.

“Sorry that ended up being stressful,” you say. “I thought she, you know, wouldn’t be moving and would do that thing where she insists on bringing out a cheese and cracker platter or something.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kendra says. “We’re here to support you no matter what. You know that.”

“I’m kind of glad we came,” Nolan says. “Now you don’t have to tell us what happened and get super pissed off again.”

“I didn’t get super pissed.” You start the car and pull away from the curb, ready to make a trip back to your side of town.

“You got pretty mad,” Kendra says. “Your whole back tensed up. That’s how I know.”

“Especially your lower back,” Nolan adds.

“Maybe that’s why my back hurts,” you mumble.

“Make boneboy give you a massage,” Nolan suggests wagging his eyebrows at you in the rear view mirror. You snort.

“Yeah, rub his super hard hand bones all over my back,” you say. “I’d probably bruise.”

“But you’d like it,” Nolan teases. “You’d be all relaxed and shit and it’d be great.”

“I mean, you’re not wrong, but.”

“But what? You’ve got no excuses. Ask him to rub your back.”

“He’s probably a bit too stressed for that right now,” you say. “There’s a lot of stuff going on for the monster community.”

“Like what?” Kendra asks.

Um. You probably shouldn’t spill the beans on this one.

“I don’t think it can really be talked about yet,” you say. “Toriel doesn’t want us talking about it yet. Not until she gets stuff figured out.”

Nolan makes a noise like he’s about to complain, but Kendra reaches back and smacks his leg before he can say anything. “I’m sure whatever it is will be resolved without a hitch,” she says. “Let’s not talk about it then. Let’s talk about... food. I haven’t eaten. Have you?” You shake your head. “Nolan?” He hums that he hasn’t. “Good. Let’s stop somewhere and eat. My treat.”

“You already bought me coffee,” you complain.

“Food!” she insists.

You sigh and shake your head. “Alright fine. Where do you want to go?”

* * *

 

You end up finding yourself at Grillby’s a while later, sitting in a booth with your friends and trying not to look around for Sans. There’s a burger in front of you, complete with fries, and it really is delicious. You just can’t help your wandering mind. You’re having a notoriously difficult time paying attention to what your friends are saying. It kind of sucks - you do feel bad - but you keep checking your phone without thinking about it. Still nothing from Sans or Toriel or anyone. You’ve tried texting them, but still no answers. You figure you shouldn’t call if they’re busy, but you can’t get rid of that nagging feeling in the back of your head that’s telling you that something bad happened, that you might never see them again.

“Hey,” Nolan tries, taking your hand on top of the table. “You alright? You look about ready to cry.”

His voice is awfully gentle for once. “Do I?” you ask.

“Uh, yeah,” he says. “Are you alright? Is it the monsters or your mother?”

You shrug. “I guess both. I’m just worrying about a lot of stuff right now.’

“Well, stop it,” Kendra says. She places her hand on top of Nolan’s so that all of your hands are stacked. “I know it’s hard for you not to worry about everyone else, but think about it. Your mom might not have told you what’s going on with her, but she’s safe and she’s getting out of this hellhole town. That’s good, right?”

You nod.

“And the monsters? Sans is probably wherever Toriel is, right?’ You nod again. “And he’s crazy good at getting people out of situations that they don’t need to be in, right? That’s what you’ve told me before. So what is there to worry about? I’m sure Sans is taking care of whatever’s going on right now.”

You look down at your food and nod again.

“Kendra, you’re probably ri--”

Your phone starts vibrating uncontrollably on the table. You look at the screen. Sans is calling. You don’t think your phone has gone to your ear faster than now.

“Sans?”

“ _heya. just lettin’ you know that, uh, we took care of business. sorry i was awol this morning._ ”

“What happened?” you ask.

“ _just some stuff. froggit face won’t be buggin’ the public for a little while, i think. i need you to call off work and come home for the night._ ”

“I-I... why?”

“ _we’ve got some some interrogating to do, and he won’t talk unless you’re there,_ ” he tells you. “ _just, uh, be there, alright? meet me at tori’s and i’ll take you to where we’re goin’._ ”

He hangs up before you can say anything else. You suck in a breath and look across the table at your friends.

“Everything alright?” Kendra asks.

“Yeah. I need to find an excuse to call off work to attend to some... official monster business, I guess?”

“So you’re an official monster now?” Nolan asks, amusement plastered on his face.

“Apparently,” you say. “I need to head home...”

“You’ve barely touched your burger,” Kendra points out.

“I know, I’m sorry, I--”

“At least box it up and take it home,” she tells you. She waves Grillby down and waits a moment. “I mean, whatever official business it is, you can’t do it on an empty stomach.”

“I’ve gotta take you two home,” you say.

“Nah, we’ll be fine,” Nolan tells you. “If we get especially lost and stranded, we’ll call Spencer. But I think both of us have lived here long enough to know our way around, yeah?”

Kendra nods. Nolan winks at you. Grillby brings by a box and a bag and busies himself boxing your food up for you. You open your mouth to tell him he doesn’t have to, that you can take care of it yourself, but he just shakes his head and holds up a hand to silence you. You smile at him, and he seems to burn a little brighter. That must be his equivalent of a smile. He waves and turns to head back to the bar.

When you stand, the fire elemental is back at your side, slipping a bottle of ketchup into your takeout bag. He nods at you and goes back to the bar for good this time. Nolan and Kendra both stand, shimmying out of the booth to hug you before you leave. You feel bad that you’re leaving them, but they told you to go. You promise to get together with them again as soon as you can. With that, you head out of the bar and climb into your car, pressing your ear to the phone once again.

“Hey there, it’s... yeah, it’s me. I’m not going to be able to come in tonight...”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy  
> Will Reader's boss let her have the day off? Find out next time on Dragon Ball Z!  
> [Tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)


	48. Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Froggit Face is interrogated.

It turns out that your boss is extremely lenient. He said that he understands that things come up once in a while, and it’s not like you’ve ever called off or been late before. You thank him profusely and promise to work extra hard tomorrow. He just laughs at you and tells you to take it easy, to take care of your business. With that taken care of, you make your way back to Toriel’s.

You see Papyrus’ car in front of the house when you pull up. You’re careful not to hit his back end when you pull into the driveway - he didn’t pull forward far enough, but you don’t blame him if everyone is in emergency mode as it is. You lock your car once you’re out and go in through the front door. Sans is waiting near the door, looking as if maybe he just got there as well. You can feel the magic in the air melting away.

“Just port in?” you ask him. He turns to face you, looking a little disheveled and much more exhausted than usual. 

“uh. yeah. you ready to head down?” 

“Where are we headed?” you ask.

“the castle underground. come on.” He holds a hand out to you. Okay. Down to business. You take his hand and close your eyes as the familiar feeling of his magic crackles around you.

When you come out, Sans stumbles, breathing hard. He must have been teleporting too much today already. You feel bad, though you know that Mount Ebott and the way they came out of the Underground are both a few hours away from town. Sans is the quickest way there, especially in an emergency like this. You can only imagine him going back and forth, taking different people with him each time. 

He keeps hold of your hand as he leads you through a long, golden hallway, stained glass windows behind the pillars running along each side. It casts him in an eerily dark shadow. If you were here with him under any other circumstances, you’d be a hell of a lot more creeped out than you already are. Still, the way he occasionally squeezes your fingers between his in a reassuring way - reassuring for you or him, you’re not sure, maybe both - reminds you that he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. That’s not what you’re here to worry about, anyways. You’re here to worry about Froggit Face and your monster friends and why the hell they didn’t tell you what they were doing today. 

After the golden hall is one that’s plain and gray, leading to a room with a sign next to it reading “THRONE ROOM”. This really is Asgore’s castle. Surprisingly, Sans leads you past that, down some stairs, to a room with a row of coffins. That’s extremely unsettling. Each one has a colored heart on it. 

“What’s with..?” you whisper.

“soul colors,” he tells you quietly. “remember how frisk told you that we needed seven souls?”

You swallow hard.

“hey, don’t make that face. ain’t here to sacrifice you or anythin’.” He sounds amused this time. 

“Does my Soul have a color?” you ask him. Maybe this isn’t the most appropriate time to ask.

“uh. yeah. every human soul does,” he says. “yours is like a light blue mostly. that means patience. and i mean, it’s not hard to see why. there’s other colors that i, uh, can’t really see from here.”

You’re curious. The two of you keep edging around the coffins. “Why can’t you see them?”

“because your soul’s inside of you. i can only see the main trait.”

You hum, but his voice is getting a bit more rigid, like he doesn’t want to be talking about this. Alright. You’ll back off. You don’t continue the conversation, and neither does he. You just keep heading to the other side of the room. Tucked away in the far corner is another set of stairs leading down, down, farther than your eyes can see. How far down does the Underground even go? Will your human body be able to handle the pressure? You shudder. Sans squeezes your hand again, leads you down the stairs.

“could have ‘ported both of us straight down here, but, uh.” He shrugs.

“It’s okay that you’re tired,” you tell him. “No big deal.”

He grunts. You keep going down the stairs. And down. And down. It gets darker towards the bottom, but you can see where it opens into a hallway. There’s lights lining those walls. It’s not that long of a hallway - you can see where it opens up into a much wider room, and you can see the pristine fur of the monster monarchy. The room is gray stone on gray stone, with roomy divots in the walls blocked off by thick metal bars. One of which has large blue bones stuck in the spaces. You see Papyrus, and he seems to be focusing particularly hard on that cell in particular.

“Is this..?”

“The dungeon, yes,” Asgore says. “We had it constructed, but have never had to use it. Not until now.”

Now that you’re looking around, this is definitely modeled after a medieval European castle’s dungeon. They must have found it in a book or something. Everyone seems really tired, especially Undyne. You peek through the bars and bones to see--

You yelp as a hand bursts through one of the bones and grabs your shirt collar, roughly pulling you forward and pressing your face against the metal bar, your arm against the bone feeling a sharp burning sensation that gets worse the more you try to get away from it.

“You. Ruin.  _ Everything _ ,” Froggit Face - the principal, holy shit, Alphys was right - growls at you before releasing you.

“I’VE TOLD YOU,” Papyrus starts, somehow not sounding that tired. His boundless energy is amazing. “THE BLUE BONES HURT YOU IF YOU TOUCH THEM.”

You step a good distance away from the cell before you dare look at your arm. Sure enough, there’s the telltale signs of a burn. Toriel looks at you almost frantically.

“Would you like me to--”

“No, it’s fine, I’ve been burned before,” you say. “Worse burns from a frying pan.” 

You wink at Papyrus. He seems a little relieved. 

“Where’s Frisk?” you go on. “And Flowey?”

“with a friend in snowdin,” Sans replies. “they’re safe.”

“Why couldn’t they just stay home with me?” you ask. “Why didn’t you guys tell me what you were doing?”

“You would have tried to come with,” Toriel explains. “We could not endanger you or Frisk.”

You open your mouth to complain, but she’s right. Every time they’ve told you their plans in the past, you’ve come up with a way to help, always putting yourself in danger in the process. 

“You could have just asked me to watch Frisk for the day,” you say quietly. “You didn’t have to leave me home alone to worry about everyone. Just tell me you’re going out for the day and you’ll be back later.”

Toriel shakes her head. “I could not lie to you. I am sorry that it happened today, but we could not let anything happen to you. But it is all done now and it is... mostly safe for you to be here.”

“Yeah, mostly.” You rub your arm. It really stings, but it doesn’t feel like it’s cooking your skin anymore. “So what now?” 

“Well, we’ve got him,” Undyne says. “We need to get some information out of him, find a way to keep him quiet. If he runs to the human authorities and says he got kidnapped by monsters, that’s some real bad rep for us. We need something to dangle over his head to keep his mouth shut.”

“Blackmail material,” you say.

“I do not like doing things this way,” Toriel says.

“remember that this is how scummy humans operate,” Sans says, as if he’s said it a million times today. 

“How’d you get him to come with you in the first place?” you ask.

“Brute force,” she says. That would explain why she looks so tired. 

You look back through the bars again, making sure to keep your distance this time. There’s the principal who hired you into the school, who was so happy to have you come in as Frisk’s translator. He had been so friendly in the beginning, so kind to you. Always smiling. His hair is still thinning and his glasses are still those thin wire rims around large round lenses. This is the man that’s been ordering people to kill monsters, as well as doing it himself. You never thought he had it in him. You’d always really liked him, at least until he tried to fire you for being friends with monsters. 

“So,” you say, speaking to him. His dark eyes bore into yours. You can almost feel his intent to hurt you. “You wouldn’t talk to these kind monsters without me being here? Do you realize that I definitely won’t be as nice as any of them would?”

He’s silent, continuing to stare at you.

“Well, you got what you wanted. I’m here.” The more you look at him, the more pissed off you get. He hurt your friends. He killed your dad. He’s the reason your mother is moving away from you and the reason that you’re scared to let your friends out of your sight. You might as well be the bad cop in this interrogation.

Whether or not one of your friends wants to play good cop doesn’t really matter to you right now. 

He scoffs. “You think that I would be scared of you?”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you weren’t,” you say honestly. “I’m not all that scary.”

“but i am,” Sans says, next to you without you hearing him approach. You don’t have to look at him to know that his left eye socket is ablaze and the other is devoid of anything; the look on your prisoner’s face says it all.

“Right. Sans is creepy as fuck. So unless you want to get blasted into nothing by my skeletal friend, I suggest you tell us everything we need to know.” 

“you should know what i’m capable of, right? after spendin’ so much time with gaster?” 

“Wait,” Undyne says. She stands slightly behind you on the side opposite of Sans, her arms still crossed over her chest. “He’s gotta start from the beginning. We need motives, confessions to crimes.”

Papyrus holds up a tape recorder with a cassette already loaded into it from his seat on the floor. He’s waiting for someone to give him the cue to start it. You nod at him.

“Alright, friend,” you start. “Let’s start with why you’re so angry with the monsters.” 

“They don’t belong. They haven’t been with humans for centuries, and for good reason,” he says. 

“So your issue is that you’re a racist prick.” You shake your head. “But that’s not good enough. Why did you get this cult together? Did you start it?”

“Monsters belong here, in the Underground,” he says darkly. 

“gotta give us more detail than that, pal,” Sans says. 

“That cult got together as soon as monsters forced their way to the surface,” he says. “Not everything revolves around you and your precious friends, princess.”

“But it got awfully personal when cult members started circling the school building and following me out to my car,” you say. 

“I knew you were getting overly friendly with those monsters. We got a ton of complaints after field day, about this shark-faced mongrel here.” He gestures to Undyne, who scoffs at him. “I liked having you in the school. You were like a ray of sunshine, the kids loved you, we needed you to translate for the kid. I wanted to scare you away from the monsters. But you’re resilient. You wouldn’t budge.”

“Because they’re my friends,” you say, “and I’d never abandon them.”

“Disgusting.” He shakes his head. “So, you wouldn’t budge. I tried firing you, but you stuck with them anyways. After that we tried breaking into your apartment--”

“How did you jump out the window?” you ask, purely out of curiosity. “You don’t really look athletic enough to be jumping down multiple stories.”

“You think I’d do that myself? Of course not. I’m not an idiot. One of the younger members did that for me, just wore my mask.”

You’d figured as much. 

“Keep going. Your lackeys almost killed Papyrus. They almost killed Sans. What’s your excuse for that?”

“That... was an order. From higher up.”

You stare at him. “But I thought that you were the leader? You’re the one that blew up the cult, killed my father.”

“Your father was an imbecile of a man, useless and stupid and only good for the monetary and legal protection that we needed,” he growls. “Everything else was divine intervention.”

“You’re telling me that some kind of god told you to do this stuff?” Undyne asks. 

“no,” Sans says. “he’s saying that gaster told him what to do.”

“That is right.” 

That voice belongs to decidedly not Froggit Face. It almost hurts to listen to, like it’s not entirely there, like it’s... glitchy? No, that doesn’t make sense. You feel the same way you feel when Sans teleports you somewhere, but it’s almost suffocating. You see what looks like another man behind the bar, tall and black, the bottom of what looks like it should be a cloak in wisps across the ground like dark smoke. Looking further up, you see two hands, not really connected to anything, both with holes in the palms, but distinctly skeletal. The face is also recognizable as skeletal, but somehow with what looks like bone lips covering his teeth, the bone malleable like Sans’. A crack runs from the top of his skull to his right socket, another from the bottom of his left to his chin. Something about him seems  _ not real _ , nightmare fuel.

You recognize his voice as the one you’ve heard in your very very strange dreams. 

“I apologize that I could not wait to come until after I had regained my form, but it seems that monsters nowadays are awfully impatient.” His voice ticks, skips a little, repeats syllables quiet enough that it’s barely audible, but it echoes in your ears. He places one detached hand on top of Froggit Face’s head. “You see, this man is merely a pawn in the grand scheme of things. I am the king piece in this chess game. It is me you are after.” 

You watch, horrified, as what looks like an enormous canine skull appears out of nothing, buzzing with almost familiar magic, its gaze transfixed on the human within the cell. Sans yanks you backwards, shouting at Undyne to follow, but his words almost don’t reach your ears. All you can hear is ringing, buzzing, the deafening sound of a blast of magic directed at the prisoner. A flash of light accompanies the blast, forcing you to cover your eyes, backed up against Toriel and Asgore. 

When you open your eyes, there is not a trace of Froggit Face besides the stench of burnt skin. 

“Now that he is no longer in the way,” the other man - monster? - says, “I am Gaster. I believe I have the answers you’re looking for.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter Gaster!  
> Will I ever be done traumatizing Reader?   
> [Tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)


	49. Gaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gaster gives us a little insight on his history.

You can’t stop the tears that start to make paths down your cheeks. 

Sans sticks close to your side, but you can’t really tell if it’s a protective stance or him trying to be reassuring. It doesn’t really matter to you right now, if you’re honest. You just watched yet another man die in front of you.

You’re going to need some serious therapy when this is over.

“Do not tell me that you felt something for that wretched man,” Gaster comments, sounding highly amused. You can’t respond. “Do not cry for him, my child. His death was imminent anyways. Aren’t you happy that you do not have to deal with that nasty cult any longer?”

“g, what the fuck?” Sans snarls. “why’d you have to go and do that?”

“Well, nothing better awaited him in the future,” he comments, ever-so-nonchalantly. “Come, why don’t we all speak like civilized adults, head somewhere more comfortable?” He moves towards the bars. 

“U-UH,  MISTER,” Papyrus says, stopping him in his tracks. “THE BLUE BONES? WILL HURT YOU? I-IF YOU TRY TO GO THROUGH THEM? IT IS PERHAPS BEST TO STAY PUT.”

Gaster. Just. Laughs. The most unsettling sound you’ve ever heard. It grates on your nerves to say the very least, and you fight every instinct to cover your ears. What’s more startling is when he completely disappears, coming back into form directly in front of Papyrus, crouched low to put his face close to the other skeleton’s. Papyrus flinches back.

“leave ‘im alone,” Sans growls.

“Silly boy,” Gaster says sweetly, reaching up to run a hand over the side of Papyrus’ face, completely ignoring Sans. “Do you not remember that I am the reason you can even use blue attacks? Why you even live today?” Papyrus’ bones are audibly rattling. Gaster stands and steps (glides? you don’t really see legs) away, heading towards the stairs leading to the room with the coffins. “Come. We will sit down somewhere.”

You look around you. Undyne has a spear in one hand and looks ready to summon more. Everyone else seems just as ready to put this guy down if need be. Gaster chuckles and holds up his hands in surrender.

“I am in no condition to fight back right now,” he says. “I value my own life enough to know when to choose my battles. I only want to give you the information you so desperately seek.”

Everyone stays rigid, but Asgore steps forward. 

“Fine. We will hear what you have to say, but I request that we stay in the Underground for this meeting. I do not trust you enough to bring you into our new residence,” he says, regal as ever. 

“Understood, Your Majesty,” Gaster says, and the two of them start up the stairs together in silence. Toriel and Undyne follow closely.

“S-SANS?” Papyrus tries. Sans rushes over to him. “SANS, WHO IS THAT? WHY IS HE SO FAMILIAR?”

“uh, pap, that’s... uh. he’s our dad. but you were so little when he left, just a babybones, you wouldn’t remember too much of him,” Sans explains quickly, carefully, with words selected with the utmost care. “you don’t have to be nice to him.”

“DAD?” It’s like Papyrus is trying the word on his tongue. 

“right, but you don’t gotta call him that. he’s more of a stranger than anything, paps. just call him gaster.”

“O-OKAY.” The two skeletons then turn to you, both wiping tears off of your face. “ARE YOU ALRIGHT, HUMAN? I KNOW THAT WAS A TRAUMATIC EXPERIENCE, BUT IT IS ALRIGHT! SANS AND I ARE HERE TO TAKE CARE OF YOU.”

You nod. “I’ll be okay,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. You won’t be okay. You can’t keep witnessing death. It’s driving you crazy.

“we’ve got you,” Sans agrees. “it’ll be alright. now let’s go see what the old shit has to say, huh?”

“LANGUAGE,” Papyrus chastises.

Sans shrugs and holds a hand out to you. You take it, twining your fingers with his. Papyrus looks between the two of you for a moment before taking your other hand and doing the same. Together, the three of you go upstairs, quickly catching up to Toriel and the others. 

Everyone moves in complete silence, nothing more than the sound of footsteps and the quiet buzz of magic that you assume is from Gaster. Everything echoes off of the empty walls. It’s eerie. You don’t like it. Asgore leads everyone through many halls of the castle, greeting what few monsters remain here to keep it clean and orderly as he passes, until you all reach what looks like a large sitting room, with more than enough room for everyone. The castle is much larger than you would have guessed from the few hallways you had seen. Did Asgore and Toriel actually live here at some point? Somehow you don’t think so. 

Asgore motions for Gaster to take the chair most towards the center of the semi-circle of seating in the room. Everything is in deep purples and golds, much like most of Toriel’s wardrobe. Everyone else takes seats on the sofas creating the rest of the loop, Papyrus and Sans both sticking to your sides. This puts you directly across from Gaster, which is extremely unsettling. His eye lights are tiny and feel like they stare into your Soul. He’s definitely focused on you. Super creepy. You try to keep your eyes averted.

“So,” Asgore starts, leaning back in his chair, glancing sideways at Toriel before he continues speaking. “I always make a point to know the names and faces of each of my subjects. How is it that we have never met?”

Gaster’s grin grows menacing, his gaze resting on Sans. “Oh, we’ve met, long ago,” he says. “There was just a very, very moronic mistake made by someone else that kept me from... keeping in touch."

Sans tenses up a bit at that statement. 

“But that’s alright. I am back and here to stay.” 

He laughs a little more, still just as unsettling. It makes you cringe. Your heart is racing and you’re not sure if it’s because of that or because you just witnessed yet another death.

“I... see,” Asgore says, not sounding any less perplexed. Poor guy. “Well. I am sorry that I was unaware of this.”

“It is alright,” Gaster assures him. “As I said, it was a very long time ago.”

His eyes are no longer trained on Sans. This is far too civilized. For some guy who just hopped in out of nowhere, blasted away what had been the biggest threat to you in less than a second, and now is sitting down with Asgore, talking like they’re old friends that had lost touch? There’s a catch. There has to be a catch. You move to speak, but the creepy gaze that falls on you as soon as your mouth is open makes your jaw click shut. 

“You said that you would provide us with information,” Toriel says, obviously taking over this conversation. “What information do you even have to provide?”

“Ah, where to start...” He looks at Sans once more, then to Papyrus, his gaze flicking over you as he looks at each of them in turn. “Skeleton monsters can live an awfully long time if they care for themselves properly. Yes, we will age, but, well. Look at me. For example, I fought in the war against humans. I became the Royal Scientist as soon as we were locked Underground. I helped plan the move deeper into the mountain, and I designed and built the CORE.”

Everyone but Sans looks completely, utterly confused. Gaster looks supremely amused by all of this. 

“But, when all of your kin is destroyed in the war, you get a bit lonely,” he goes on. “Skeletons don’t recreate like most monsters. Listen up, boys, this is important for you to hear.” He gestures to Sans and Papyrus. “Some physical matter and magic from the parent is all it takes for one skeleton to create another. It takes very little time for an infant to be born that way. That is how I cultivated my sons.” 

Papyrus focuses on his hands clutching the tape recorder in his lap. 

“The first. Smart, always kept his wits about him, careful, interested in science more than anything. Wanted nothing more than to help me with my experiments. But after a while, he grew lazy. Bored. I could see his loneliness, and another hand around the lab wouldn’t hurt.” His gaze sets on Papyrus. “So, I created the second. I never got to know him much, but I knew that he was just as smart as the first, but in vastly different areas. Where the eldest was good with numbers and theories, the younger was good with puzzles and traps.” 

This guy is definitely talking about Sans and Papyrus. You’ve never ever heard of other skeleton monsters.

“But I had an experiment that I needed to do before the younger was old enough to help in the lab. I needed to take on an apprentice. That is where Alphys came in.” He shrugs. “Bright girl, just a bit too nervous and unsure of herself. I was always sure that it would be her downfall when she succeeded me. She and my eldest son helped to build the machine in question.” 

Nobody but Sans seems to even be following him. Actually, you’re sure that he’s the only one really listening, really taking any of this in. Thank the universe for Papyrus’ tape recording. Maybe Sans can make more sense of this after the fact, when everyone can sit down and discuss it.

Will you even get a chance to sit down outside of this and talk? Who’s to say that this guy won’t annihilate all of you here and now? That’s a chilling thought. You try to shake it out of your head, to tell yourself that nothing bad is going to happen and that you don’t have to worry. You trust your friends enough to keep you and themselves safe. Still, there’s no reason for you to trust this guy.

“The experiments were... successful,” Gaster continues, seeming to be picking his words carefully. “Slowly, my son learned to jump through the Void. Very short distances at first, of course. The Void is a very dangerous place.” He nods as he speaks, as if confirming his words with himself. “See, the machine offered a sort of resistance training. It made the Void easier for him to step through, and in the end, we were going to go through together, to new timelines, to find a way to safely get everyone out of the Underground.” 

Sans seems ready to say something.

“But my son was stupid,” Gaster goes on, his voice hiking up in volume, his voice clicking more often, becoming more unsettling. “He knew what the Void was capable of, having experienced it. He did not warn me that going in with him would do to me--”

“that ain’t how it happened,” Sans cuts in.

“He did not warn me that it would  _ literally tear me apart _ .”

“i told you to stay put!”

“He was so excited to see other timelines, to find a way out. He was far too enthusiastic.”

“i never wanted any part ‘a those experiments in the first place!”

“Perhaps he was jealous that I did not choose him to be my successor--”

“stars, g, none ‘a that bullshit is true,” Sans growls. 

“I began to regret him,” Gaster says quietly, maliciously. “I regret ever creating him.”

Sans doesn’t have a response this time. He looks unbelievably hurt. 

“Because of him, I resent my youngest. I should never have created either of them.”

Papyrus fidgets with the tape recorder.

“I no longer have sons,” he says. “And though I no longer consider them as family, I still cannot let the eldest go unpunished.”

The air is so, so tense. 

“that why you had someone try to kill pap?”

“Humans are very impressionable beings,” Gaster says. “They always have been. If you convince one that you are a being of higher power, they will do anything to appease you. Find one that already has a hatred for monsters and convince them to direct that anger at one in particular, your goals meet themselves.”

“if you’re so fuckin’ mad at me, why’d you have to go after paps? he didn’t do shit to you.”

“Because he is the most important thing in your miserable, pathetic life,” Gaster replies, standing up, moving closer to Sans until he’s inches from the other skeleton’s face. “I want to strip away everything that is dear to you, to punish you, to take away what minuscule hope you have left. I’ll take your brother, your mate, your friends, your life. You’ve wronged me, Sans, and this is a punishment that I will take immense pleasure in bringing upon you over and over and over again.” 

With that, Gaster completely disappears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends, I am so frickin' excited for Gaster. And the rest of this fic.   
> Only about 3 more weeks until it's over!   
> [Tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)


	50. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Reader and Paps have a kind of saddening conversation

Everyone just kind of looks at Sans. In silence. Nobody’s sure what to say. The only noise in the room is the sound of Papyrus still nervously fidgeting with the tape recorder and the rattling of bones. 

“Did... you get all of that?” Toriel asks, looking to the taller skeleton, voice gentle.

Papyrus just nods. 

“A-alright. Good. So.” Asgore looks around at everyone for a second. “Perhaps we should--”

“yeah, got it,” Sans mutters, standing up. He walks over, takes the hands of the king and queen, and disappears.

You and Undyne both look at Papyrus. You’ve never seen his head hang so low. The tape recorder is still running. You tap the button to stop recording, wait for him to nod, and then press it. It clicks off. 

Sans returns, leaving again with Undyne.

You want to say something with Papyrus. He looks so sad, so completely heartbroken. You want to offer some words of comfort, but nothing comes to mind. You feel... helpless. This is so beyond you. 

Sans appears right in front of you, looking just as exhausted as earlier, holding his hands out to you and his brother. 

“come on,” he says quietly. “let’s go home.”

Papyrus nods, and the two of you stand, both taking one of his hands. You close your eyes, opening them in the middle of what you recognize as the skeleton brothers’ apartment.

Okay? You thought you’d be heading back to Toriel’s. You don’t say anything, but watch Sans plop down on the couch. Papyrus retreats to his room.

“i’ll go get his car after i take a nap,” he tells you, patting the couch cushion next to him. You sit down next to him. He reaches over and pats your knee, trying to melt into the couch like he usually does. Somehow, it’s not working. He looks too wound up.

“Okay,” you murmur. 

You stare at the wall until you hear Sans start to snore. Even in the most stressful of situations, he seems to be able to fall asleep whenever. Maybe it’s a defense mechanism? You try to fish your phone out of your pocket. Nope, doesn’t work. You wind up jostling Sans a little too much, and you don’t want to wake him up. You think back to your food from Grillby’s. What happened to the bag? You don’t remember ever putting it down. Actually, you think you dropped it when Froggit Face pulled you into the bars of the cell he was in. 

Froggit Face. You shudder. Just when you thought that maybe the problems you and your friends have been facing were close to being over, something bigger and possibly much worse comes along. None of you can catch a break, huh? If you hadn’t met the monsters, or if you had at least let yourself be scared off like Froggit Face had wanted, you wouldn’t be dealing with this. You’d still be teaching at the school, not waiting to finish off your student teaching, not working at the flower shop (though it’s a really nice shop)... 

No, stop that. Shake those thoughts right out of your head. You’ve always been one to be happy to help your friends in whatever situation. If there’s something you can do, you want to do it. No amount of wishing that nobody had to be in this situation is going to fix it. You’re not going to wake up tomorrow and have Gaster be gone. Take a deep breath. Start with what  _ is _ in your control, see if there’s anything you can do. 

You carefully remove Sans’ hand from your leg, where it had lingered, and walk over to Papyrus’ door. You knock on it lightly.

“Hey, Pap? Can I come in?” you ask. 

You hear muffled sounds, sounding like voices. Did he say something? You knock again. Only those noises again. You’re worried. Is it okay for you to just kind of... walk in? You don’t spend very much time over here, so you’re not entirely sure. Maybe you’ll just poke your head in. He might be taking a nap too, right? He looked exhausted. So did everyone else. Besides, keeping up those blue bones must have taken a decent amount of energy. You have no idea how long he’d been keeping that up for.

Okay, poke your head in. Just for a second, to check on him. You knock lightly one more time before you crack the door.

You can see Papyrus sitting on the edge of his bed, looking down at something in his hands. It’s then that the words start to come through to you.

“ _ Because of him, I resent my youngest. I should never have created either of them. _ ”

The tape screeches, it plays that line again. Again and again and again. Papyrus’ shoulders shake. 

“Pappy?” you try again. He freezes, pauses the tape. You see him slowly set the tape recorder down with one hand and use the other to frantically wipe at his face. 

“WH-WHAT IS IT, HUMAN?” he asks. His voice sounds broken. Oh no. You can feel your heart breaking.

“I’m coming in,” you tell him.

You come and sit on the edge of his bed next to him. He makes no move to stop you. You peek over at his face. Just as you thoughts. The poor boy’s been crying. In the couple of moments of silence that pass, he opens his jaw as if to speak, but he keeps stopping himself.

“Papyrus, you know you can talk to me if you need to,” you say. “About anything. And I won’t say a word to Sans or anyone else unless you ask me to.”

He nods. “What... What do you think that Sans did so wrong to make our father hate us?” 

You look down at your hands where they’re folded in your lap. “I’m not sure,” you say. “But you heard Sans, right? He says that’s not how it happened. I’d like to think that Sans wouldn’t lie about anything, especially not about things as important as family.”

“He regrets letting me be born. He regrets letting Sans be born,” he says sadly. “I did not think... that monsters could be capable of saying such terrible words.”

“I didn’t either,” you agree. “Every monster that I’ve met has been so kind and thoughtful.”

“All except one,” he mutters. “But now I am confused. I have always trusted Sans with everything. He may be lazy and he may have a terrible sense of humor and little to no work ethic, but...” He heaves a heavy sigh. “What if my father... Gaster. What if he’s right?” 

Oh, this hurts you so badly. Papyrus is doubting his older brother, who you were told has raised him on his own after their dad split. You wonder what this adorable cinnamon roll would have turned out like if his father had stuck around. Push those thoughts aside. Sans did a wonderful job and you don’t think that he would have if he were some terrible person.

“Papyrus,” you start carefully. “I don’t know the facts either. But I think that you should continue to trust the person that’s been there for you all this time. Has Sans ever steered you wrong before?”

“No...”

“Alright then. Trust him, because he trusts you. Because Gaster is giving us literally zero reason to trust him instead.” There’s a short pause. You pat his shoulder. “Gaster may have created you, but you don’t have to consider him to be family if you don’t want to. Believe it or not, you get to choose who your family is. You don’t have to stay with those you’re born to if you’re given the chance to leave.”

“Gaster left. He did not choose us to be his family,” Papyrus says. He thinks on that for a moment, repeats it a few times. “Thank you, human. I... feel a little bit better. Not all the way better, but I do not feel wary of Sans anymore. That was a horrible feeling.”

“You’re the most important thing in the whole world to Sans,” you tell him. “You know that. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. I’m sure he’ll explain everything to us soon, okay?”

“Right. We must give him time to get his strength and energy back, and then he will be ready to take action.” Papyrus has some pep back in his voice. You can’t help but smile to yourself.

There’s another bout of silence, and you think that maybe the conversation is over. As you’re preparing to excuse yourself from the room, Papyrus clears his nonexistent throat. 

“I have... one more thing that I would like to talk to you about,” he says, keeping his voice lowered. Maybe he doesn’t want to wake Sans?

“What’s up?”

“Sans mentioned to me a while ago that you had been having... strange dreams?” He seems very unsure of bringing this up. “Do you mind telling me what they were about?” 

Right. Your weird dreams. “I haven’t been having them as often,” you tell him. “They are pretty strange, though. I’m always sitting in a small room or a field looking at pictures while this voice... while Gaster talks to me about how I can’t trust anyone, how I don’t remember things how they really happened. I try not to worry about it, though.”

“I haven’t told Sans, but I have been having very similar dreams,” he tells you. “They’re very focused on me... not trusting my brother? Which I have always known is not an option. But, considering that Froggit Face had said that Gaster spoke to him in his dreams... do you think it really is Gaster speaking to us?”

You shrug. “It could very well be,” you say. “I’m not sure. Let’s just... see how they progress, okay? See if they’re any different. Just remember that nobody can ever really hurt you in your dreams.”

He smiles at you. “Thank you,” he says again. “Now, where is my lazybones of a brother?”

He stands, hands on his hips, striking a rather outrageous pose like he normally would. There’s the Papyrus you know and love. You allow yourself to laugh a little at his silliness. It’s a good change from the heavy talk from a minute ago.

“On the couch sleeping still, I think.”

“WHAT? THAT IS UNACCEPTABLE! BUT I WILL LET IT PASS FOR NOW.” Ah, there we go. Back to one hundred percent. “I WILL GO AND MAKE SOME SPAGHETTI WITH THE HIGHEST HEALING QUALITIES. I WILL WAKE HIM WHEN IT’S DONE. HE AND I WILL RECOVER ENERGY AND MAGIC LICKITY SPLIT! WILL YOU STAY FOR DINNER?”

You could never, ever say no to that face.

“Yeah, Pap, I’ll stay.”

 

 

You immediately regret falling back asleep on the couch with Sans. When you wake up, you find out that Papyrus has definitely burned the dinner in his enthusiasm. 

Still, you know better than to not eat it. You choke it down with a smile on your face.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk if it's really actually sad but I got kinda sad writing it  
> [Tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)


	51. Journals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Papyrus gives you a gift.

It’s been almost a week since you all met Gaster. Toriel has been obsessively holding meetings between everyone, her stress making everyone else stress out. Yes, it’s an awful situation, but there’s only so much you all can discuss with little knowledge of the circumstances. Sans has tried multiple times to explain what really happened with Gaster, but either nobody really understands what he’s saying or he has an extremely hard time getting the words out without sounding like maybe Gaster is right. Your days consist of helping with errands, going to work, and sitting around the kitchen table. It’s been difficult to find time alone with Sans as well; he hasn’t been spending the night, claiming that he needs to be home to watch over Papyrus, and that he trusts those living with you to keep you safe. You understand, but it’s really weird for you to sleep by yourself after all this time.

Frisk had come home a couple of days after everyone else did, having been told it was okay to spend a few days with the monsters down in the Underground. You missed them, and they try to take up some of your time every day to do stuff that’s a little less stressful. Lots of video games and writing funny stories together. They like to have you start one out and then let them totally change the story line. It’s a pretty fun game to play. Toriel always enjoys reading the final products. You think that maybe Frisk was trying to keep her stress levels down in an inconspicuous way.

You woke up this morning with a splitting headache and a faster than normal heartbeat. The nightmares that you’ve been having have gotten worse. Papyrus has the day off, so he said that he would come over early and talk to you a little bit about them. The two of you have decided to keep the fact that Papyrus also has them a secret for a little while longer. Sans doesn’t need more stress than he already has, and he’s been fretting over Papyrus quite enough as it is.

You’re downstairs on the couch, sipping coffee from your mug and watching the news. A missing persons report has gone out for the principal - for Froggit Face.  You grimace as they come around to that story and turn the television off. Just seeing his face makes you start to feel panicky and sick to your stomach. You make another mental note to find a therapist. Maybe you should ask Papyrus to make you look today while he’s here.

Speaking of the devil, you hear the front door open. Toriel, Asgore, and Frisk aren’t home - they left to go run some errands together - and the only person you’re expecting is Papyrus. You look up. Lo and behold, there he is, the tall skeleton in question. He smiles at you and joins you on the couch. He has a couple of paper bags in his hands that he sets lightly on his lap.

“GOOD MORNING, HUMAN,” he says, awfully chipper.

“Hi, Paps,” you reply. “Want any coffee?”

“NO THANK YOU,” he says. “I AM HERE FOR OUR SECRET DREAM MEETING.”

You smile at that. Leave it to him to make it sound cooler than it is. “Yeah, that’s what I’m here for, too.” You fiddle with your mug. “So, um, have yours... gotten worse? At all?”

“YES,” he says. “GASTER IS MUCH MORE CRUEL WITH HIS WORDS. HE REALLY DOES NOT WANT ME ASSOCIATING WITH SANS.”

“He doesn’t seem to want me associating with him, either,” you say, “but that’s the same as before. Has the scenery changed or anything?”

“N-NOT REALLY,” he says. “NO PLACES OUTSIDE OF WHERE I’VE BEEN IN MY DREAMS BEFORE. HE’S JUST A LOT ANGRIER.”

“I see,” you say. 

“ACTUALLY, THERE IS SOMETHING ELSE I WANTED TO BRING TO THE TABLE, SO TO SPEAK,” he tells you. “I, UM, GOT US THESE.” He looks into the paper bags before handing you one.

Inside is a small green journal with the words “COOL FRIEND” pasted on the cover. Aw, how adorable. He pulls a matching one out of the other bag that says “COOL DUDE”. 

“I THOUGHT THAT MAYBE... WE SHOULD WRITE THESE DREAMS DOWN?” he suggests. “I-I READ ONLINE THAT MANY HUMANS DO IT, IT IS DEFINITELY A COOL THING TO DO, AND PERHAPS IT’LL HELP UP ASCERTAIN THE MEANING OF THESE NIGHTMARES THAT WE SHARE? PERHAPS IT WILL MAKE IT EASIER FOR US TO SHARE BECAUSE I DO NOT KNOW ABOUT YOU, BUT I OFTEN FORGET PARTS THAT FEEL IMPORTANT AFTER I’VE BEEN AWAKE FOR A WHILE, AND--”

“This is a really great idea,” you say earnestly, cutting him off. He was totally trying to convince you that it wasn’t lame to do this. “I agree, this could really help us. Should we write down summaries of what they’ve been like so far?” 

“YES,” he says, producing pens from the bottom of his bag. “I BROUGHT PENS FOR THAT EXACT REASON. I AM ALWAYS PREPARED! AND YOU CANNOT SPELL PREPARED WITHOUT SEVERAL LETTERS FROM MY NAME. NYEH HEH.”

You take one from him - they’re both the same green color as the journals. 

“Papyrus, you are literally the most thoughtful friend I have ever had,” you praise. A little bit of color rises to his cheekbones, and he averts his gaze.

“I AM GLAD THAT YOU THINK MY IDEAS ARE GOOD,” he says, sounding just as flustered as he looks. He cracks open his journal and gets to work writing. His handwriting is much neater than you would have expected. You’re actually surprised that this is the first time you’ve seen it.

You follow suit, trying to describe everything that you can. Where you usually are, what kind of clothes you wear, how the air feels, what the pictures look like that you’re always looking at, the kinds of things that Gaster tells you. It feels a little weird writing it down, but you think that it’s a great idea.

“OH, AND HUMAN?” Papyrus starts about ten minutes into your summarizing. You hum. “CAN WE... CONTINUE TO HAVE THESE MEETINGS IN SECRET? AND KEEP THE JOURNALS HIDDEN FOR NOW? I DO NOT WANT MY BROTHER TO WORRY ABOUT THIS.”

“Don’t worry, Paps,” you assure him. “We can keep it a secret. I’ll keep this hidden in my dresser, okay? Sans doesn’t go in there.”

“AND MINE WILL BE ON MY BOOKSHELF. HIDDEN IN PLAIN SIGHT!” He sounds awfully proud of himself.

The two of you busily try to get everything written down that you can remember about your dreams, then compare notes. Things have been pretty much exactly the same for the both of you, minus some of the stuff that Gaster says to each of you. His words are definitely personalized, but both of you are sitting around looking at photographs of things that have happened to you while Gaster narrates and tries to tell you how everything is Sans’ fault.

Papyrus asks you to hide his dream journal with yours in your dresser when you get a call that Toriel is coming home. She’s calling yet another meeting that’ll include everyone that can make it. You run upstairs to do that, taking great care to clear a nice spot for them in the top drawer of your dresser. You don’t think Sans will do any snooping through your underwear. As you close it, you feel a small burst of magic behind you. 

“Sans, you’re not funny,” you say when you feel skeletal hands snake around your waist.

“mmn.” He presses his face between your shoulder blades. 

“Family meeting. Come on,” you say. “Is Toriel back yet?”

“nnnope,” he murmurs. “just pap downstairs, probably waitin’ patiently. he don’t know i’m here yet.”

He nuzzles into you.

“Sans, we should head downstairs,” you tell him. “She’ll be home any minute.”

He grumbles something you can’t hear, but the inflection in his voice tells you that it must have been something awfully dirty. 

“What was that?”

“we got a little time to kill,” he tries, moving one hand farther forward and letting it dip just barely into the waistband of your pants. 

You suck in a short breath. “Later,” you say. “Come on.”

He groans and releases you, though pulling you into an embrace once you’re turned around. 

The second the two of you set foot at the bottom of the stairs, the front door opens, and in comes Toriel, Asgore, and Frisk. Frisk bounds up to the two of you happily to give you both hugs, then runs off to the kitchen table. Toriel looks awfully grim - an expression that you’ve sadly gotten used to seeing on her face. She’s too stressed to be as chipper as usual. You understand that, but it’s still sad. Toriel is always such a ray of happy motherly sunshine, but Gaster is fucking all of that up.

He’s fucking everything up.

Silently, she and Asgore head to the table as well, barely even looking at you and Sans as they pass. What errands were they even running? You don’t see them bringing in any grocery bags. Maybe Toriel was just trying to get out of the house. She’s been doing that a lot.

Once everyone is seated at the table, Toriel clears her throat. “I am sorry for calling everyone here again,” she starts. “I just... am lost. What do we even do?”

*” _ Help him redeem himself _ ,” Frisk signs.

“out of the question,” Sans growls. 

“We cannot help him rehabilitate himself if we do not have access to him,” Toriel says. “He does not seem to want to listen to reason, either.”

“How do we go about finding him?” Asgore asks. “I know that we do not have all of the facts straight as far as what really happened between him and Sans, but...”

“those facts ain’t gonna change the fact that gaster ain’t coming around until he’s good and ready,” Sans says. “he won’t come to visit until he’s sure he could kill anyone who crossed him without much effort.”

“That’s...” Toriel is wide-eyed, disbelieving.

“he needs his physical form totally back to do that,” Sans goes on. “see, the void, it uh, it can tear you apart if you’re not careful.” He shrugs. “me? i’m in the void for maybe a millisecond at a time. would take literal centuries for that to catch up to me and do me harm. gaster was in there for some indeterminate amount of time. he was literally ripped apart. based on what i know about the void and the machine he used to get back, he’s still tryin’ to bring himself back together. once he does that, he’ll be ready to fight.”

“But... We cannot simply sit here and wait for him!” Toriel argues. “We must do something. My people are in danger!”

“i’m in danger,” Sans says. “the people dear to me are in danger. he ain’t gonna go after all of monsterkind. just this small group. really, we’re watchin’ our own backs. we gotta wait for him to come to us.”

“There is absolutely no way that I can do that,” Toriel says. She’s frantic. “I must... we must do what we can to stop him now.”

“Toriel,” Asgore says, placing a paw over hers on the table. “Please relax. Perhaps... we should do something to take our minds off of the situation? To pass the time?”

“LIKE A TRIP!” Papyrus says. “A ROADTRIP! AN ADVENTURE!”

“Adventure?” Toriel echoes.

Frisk runs off, returning with an armful of promotional pamphlets. It looks like they’ve been saving them up. They pick one out of the pile and hold it up to Toriel.

“Well, we have been saving to take everyone to one of these,” she sighs.

Frisk vibrates excitedly. 

You look at it. “Everyone will need time off to do that. We do have other jobs.”

“Well, then everyone pick a weekend to try to get off. If most of us can make it, then we will go,” Asgore decides. “I think this will be a great idea.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to get back on track ;w;  
> [Tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)


	52. Worth It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day one of the adventure!

The only weekend that everyone could get off at once is about a month after the decision to take a trip was made. 

But here you are, sitting in the parking lot of the hotel with Sans, Frisk, Flowey, and Papyrus shoved into your car, their bags shoved into your trunk and the little space that’s in the back seat. Toriel asked you to wait in the parking lot for them since the rooms are all in her name and she wants to be able to have everyone settled in at once, but holy shit, it’s hot outside. It’s beating down into your car, and while Sans and Papyrus don’t seem all that bothered, you feel like you’re sweating profusely, and Frisk doesn’t look much better. All you can do is hope that everyone shows up quickly. 

Maybe ten minutes pass, and you see a blue hand tapping on your window. You roll it down. 

“Hey, punk,” Undyne says. She backs up so you can get out of the car. She crosses her arms over her chest and looks around the parking lot. “You been waiting long?”

“Not really,” you say. “I’ve only been here about ten minutes.”

“Well, it’s hot as hell,” she says. “Toriel needs to hurry her ass up.”

You nod. “I agree.” 

Another couple of minutes pass. You start to wonder why no one else is getting out of the car. Undyne seems to perk up as she looks around once more.

“There she is,” she says. You’re thankful for her superior height. She can easily see over many of the cars here.

You recognize Toriel’s car pulling up into a spot not too far from you. Undyne starts to walk away, and before you know it, everyone is crowded around your car, holding their own bags and belongings. 

“Sorry that we took so long,” Toriel says. “Asgore took a wrong turn and got us lost.”

Asgore snorts and shakes his head with a small smile on his face. He must have gotten a pretty hard time from her about that one.

“It’s okay,” you say. “We weren’t waiting around for too long.”

Toriel seems just a little relieved. “Shall we get checked in, then?”

You and your passengers take your belongings from your car and the whole group starts towards the front doors of the hotel. It’s nothing super extravagant, but it’s a fairly nice hotel, you think. The carpet looks new and so does the paint on the walls. The real test will be the state of the rooms.

You and the others hang back while Toriel approaches the front desk. The human at the counter looks a little baffled by the size - both amount of people and the height of some of them - of your group, but still smiles and does their job. Toriel returns with four room keys and starts handing them out. 

“You all discussed who would be sharing rooms prior to this, correct?” 

You nod. You and Frisk decided to share a room for sake of simplicity. You all figured the brothers would want to stay together, Undyne and Alphys weren’t getting split up, and Toriel and Asgore are still technically married, even if they don’t always get along. 

“Good. Let us go and get situated.”

Luckily, the hotel is only one floor. You weren’t sure if Toriel and Asgore would fit in the elevators if you chose to use the other hotel, which had about three stories. This is probably just better for everyone. 

You watch as Toriel and Asgore take their room, then Alphys and Undyne. Papyrus and Frisk are exchanging a lot of glances. 

“A-ACTUALLY, HUMAN? BROTHER?” Papyrus starts. “FRISK AND I WOULD RATHER SHARE TOGETHER BECAUSE. UM. WE ARE VERY CLOSE FRIENDS? AND WE DO NOT WANT TO BE WITHOUT EACH OTHER? AND WE JUST--”

“are you tryin’ to get us to share a room because you think it’d be funny?” Sans cuts in. He definitely sounds amused.

“N-NO? JUST. WANTING TO BE WITH MY VERY GOOD FRIEND FRISK THE HUMAN AND MY ALSO GOOD FRIEND FLOWEY THE FLOWER. ONLY ONE SKELETON PER ROOM. NYEH HEH.”

“ok.” Sans shrugs and takes the room key from your hand. “go get settled in then. big day ahead.”

You squint at Papyrus and Frisk as Sans walks into the room you’ll apparently be sharing with him. They both give you thumbs up, and Flowey just groans. The three of them disappear into their own room, and you sigh, giving up. Not that you have a problem being in a room with Sans. Actually, it’s kind of nice. You’d rather share with him anyways - it’s not like you don’t most nights anyways. 

You follow Sans into the room. He’s got his bag on one of the beds and has himself sprawled out face down on the other. You drop yours on the floor, shut the door, and sit on the edge of the bed next to him.

“You and Pap planned this,” you say.

“how’d you guess?”

“You weren’t flustered by it.” 

He shrugs as best as one can when lying face down and grunts. 

There’s loud, rapid knocking on your door after a moment of silence. Right. You’re going to have to get going. Everyone is really excited for today. You’re pretty excited, too, actually. 

“LET’S GO!” Undyne yells on the other side of the door. It almost hurts to hear it. You stand and open the door, making sure that you nudge Sans on your way up.

“Yeah, we’re coming,” you say, picking up a small drawstring backpack that you had brought with from your pile of stuff and making sure all of you personal stuff is in there. Wallet (you stick the room key in there), keys, phone... All set. You put it on and look over at Sans, who is barely dragging himself out of the bed.

“Uh, you might wanna lose the jacket, Sans,” Undyne suggests. “It’s hot as fuck outside.”

“yeah.” He sheds the jacket and leaves it on the floor. Typical Sans. You kind of smile at his bad habits and shake your head as he walks up to your side. The two of you follow Undyne from the room and gather in the lobby with everyone else. 

“Now, shall we be off?” Toriel says. 

 

 

It’s been a very long time since you’ve been to an amusement park.

Frisk had talked a couple times about going during the school year, but Toriel kept telling them that it had to wait until after school was out. Then there was the stress of everything going on with the cult. Now, Toriel finally caved. You’re glad that she’s willing to do something to take away the stress. You agree that you should possibly be doing something, but if Sans says there’s nothing any of you can do but wait, then you might as well live life as normally as possible, summer trips included.

The plan is to stick to the amusement park today and then head over to the attached water park tomorrow since it’s supposed to be hotter then than it is now. You think it’ll be really fun - nobody but you in this group has been to an amusement park, and you know that they’ll all love it. You think Undyne especially will, given her need to prove how brave she is. Papyrus will probably really like it, too. 

You’re pretty pumped to see them try something new. 

Surprisingly, there’s a lot of monsters here, both working and enjoying the rides. You didn’t really expect to see all that many, given that there’s still a lot of things that monsters either aren’t comfortable doing or aren’t able to do yet. It’s really nice to see monsters and humans mingling together, even though you see it a lot in your everyday life. 

“Holy... shit?” Undyne starts, genuine amazement in her voice. You’ve never heard that tone from her. “Humans do this shit for fun? Throw themselves around on machines at top speed?”

“Uh, yeah, sometimes,” you say. “It really scares some people, though. I’m sure that’s the same for monsters.”

“I-is it really scary?” Alphys asks, twisting her claws together nervously.

“Only some of the stuff,” you say. “You’ll probably find something you like. Don’t worry.”

“humans get scared of this kind of stuff,” Sans echoes. There’s something about his tone that you don’t like.

“NYEH HEH. THAT IS A FACT THAT I WILL NOT AT ALL DO ANYTHING WITH EVER,” Papyrus says. You squint at him. With the way he and his brother are looking at each other, you know they’ve got to be up to something.

Suspicions aside, you know today will be fun. Nothing is ever dull with your monster friends around. You watch as Undyne drags Alphys off somewhere, and Frisk follows Toriel and Asgore somewhere else. You weren’t aware that you’d all be splitting up.

Now it’s just you and the skeleton brothers. 

Papyrus wastes no time taking you by the arm and dragging you off to rides of various sizes and shapes, not neglecting the spinning teacups or other small rides. After every single one, you have the same conversation.

“SO, HUMAN, DID THAT RATTLE YOUR BONES AT ALL?”

“No, Paps, that wasn’t so bad.”

“you sure you’re not a little spooked?”

“The only thing spooking me right now is the look on your faces.”

You’re more than certain they’re just trying to find things that are going to scare you. It’s kind of fun for you, though. The adrenaline rush you get from some of the rides keeps you on edge, but you’re not really scared of heights or falling off of them or anything like that. Frustrating Papyrus like this is pretty entertaining. Though, actually, he doesn’t get all that frustrated, just more and more determined as you go. The rides he picks get progressively taller, longer, faster, and while Sans nopes out after a while and decides he doesn’t feel comfortable riding anymore, you and Papyrus have a blast together. 

Evening starts to roll around. The sun is setting in the distance, and Papyrus is finally starting to calm down. He seems... defeated, but happily so. You don’t feel bad at all that he couldn’t find what you’re scared of.

“Is there anything else that anyone would like to do?” The three of you had met back up with Toriel and the others near the front of the park. You shrug.

“I think we might be--”

“THERE IS ONE MORE THING,” Papyrus says. “THERE IS ONE THING THAT WE DID NOT RIDE BECAUSE THREE'S A CROWD.”

You give him an odd look.

“I VOTE THAT THESE TWO--” he grabs you and Sans and pull each of you into his side, “--RIDE THE FERRIS WHEEL. I HAVE HEARD THAT IT IS RATHER ROMANTIC AND THAT IT IS A REQUIRED RITUAL FOR COUPLES.”

“Papyrus,” you try, “if everyone is done, then--”

“YEAH, WEENIES,” Undyne barks. “You have to!”

“I-it was pretty fun,” Alphys says. “A-and the sun is s-setting. E-even more romantic!”

You look pleadingly at Toriel, who looks just as amused as everyone else.

“yeah, ok,” Sans says with a shrug, taking your arm. “back in a jiff.”

You’re teleported into the line for the ferris wheel, which is rather short. No time for escape.

“Sans, we don’t have to just because they said we should,” you say.

“i’m not gonna say no to privacy,” he says with a wink. 

You don’t protest. There’s no way you’re getting out of this. The couple in front of you step into a car, and then you’re guided into the next one. Sans sits across from you in the small car, almost small enough to be considered cramped. Your knees brush against his where you’re sitting.

“c’mere,” he says, gesturing to the space next to him. Before the wheel begins to turn, you hurriedly move to sit beside him. He wraps an arm around your waist.

You can’t find any words to say. Your eyes flick over your group of friends as they get smaller... and smaller... and smaller.

“not so bad, huh?” he says. “nothing’s too bad for my fearless human.”

“Uh huh,” is all you can manage.

“hey? you’re not scared of this, are you? i thought heights don’t bug you?” 

You look over at him. He actually looks concerned, and if the crackle of magic in the air tells you anything, he’s willing to teleport you out of this mess if you give the command. How sweet. The wheel stops while you’re towards the top.

“It isn’t the heights,” you admit. “This is going to sound kind of silly, but... I’ve seen so many movies where the wheel, like... detaches? And rolls around and kills a bunch of people and they can’t catch it until it crashes and burns and like...” You shudder. “That’s always just had me kind of spooked.”

Sans sighs. “relax. yeah, if it detached, it would roll and things would be bad i guess.” You smack his leg. Not helping, Sans. “relax!” he repeats. “what i’m sayin’ is that i’d be able to get you outta here. you wouldn’t crash and burn.”

That’s... oddly reassuring. You do your best to relax and slump into his side. 

“look at this view,” he says. 

You do. There’s blues and pinks and purples and oranges swirling in the wispy clouds, reflected far off in the distance by the ocean. Being this high up greatly extends how far you can see. It feels almost endless. 

“worth it, right?” he says quietly, close to your ear. 

You feel safe here. Sans makes you feel safe. 

You know that Sans will make sure everything is taken care of, whether it be you in the event that this ferris wheel breaks, or in the situation with Gaster.

You trust him more than you thought you did.

All of the hardship you’ve faced, the trials you’ve gone through with your friends, everything that you’ve had to fix with the help of monsters and humans alike, it’s all led up to this moment. This one, singular quiet moment with a beautiful view and the skeleton you’ve grown to really care for and look forward to spending time with.

“Yeah,” you agree as the wheel starts moving back down again. “It’s all worth it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends, I thank you for your patience. Life got so crazy so fast and while I'm still in the middle of the mess that created itself, I'm working hard to get everything done and taken care of for this fic and everything else I'm trying to get done.  
> Please make sure you're all taking care of yourselves and your families and friends. Be fearless, and take care of everything you need to take care of. I love all of you dearly. Your support means a lot, and I want nothing more than to know that you're all doing okay and thriving and striving for greater things.  
> <3   
> [Tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)


	53. Lazy River

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yesterday was the one year anniversary of FWTST!!!!! Yaaayyyyy  
> I was aiming to have the very last chapter up yesterday, but... life happened ><  
> Anyways, enjoy!

Something isn’t right.

You fell asleep next to Sans last night when you came back to the hotel from the amusement park, but now that you’re waking up, something seems... off. You sit up and look around. The walls are weird. The floor looks weird. Sans is still in bed next to you, but even he seems wrong somehow. You try touching his face, just barely brushing your fingertips over his cheekbone, but your fingers fall through him like he’s not even there at all, like he’s a hologram or something. You jerk your hand back and try to steady your breath as your heart just about jumps out of your chest.

This is different from the nightmares you’ve had before.

“Gaster?” you try. If this really is a dream, he has to be there. He’s been a part of every dream you’ve had for well over a month now.

A shadow in the corner above the door where the wall meets the ceiling shakes, jitters, until you see chalky white hands with holes in the palms begin to work their way out of the tar-like mass. A skull works its way out as well, coming into form until the goop begins to drip onto the floor and form a man, standing tall and proud and elegant despite the horrific sight of his coming together. He looks over at you, his hands clasped behind his back, an uninterested look on his face.

“Yes?” is all he says.

“What is all this?” you ask. “This isn’t normally how it goes.”

“Cognition changes. Dreams change. You must have subconsciously grown sick of our previous meeting place,” he says, sounding like he’s explained this a million times before. “Perhaps you are more interested in current events than pursuing imagined places.”

Seeing this man hurts you on the inside, causes your heart to constrict, but you know that this is just a dream. He can’t hurt you here. You watch a wicked grin cross his face for only a split second.

“You think that I cannot hurt you here?” he echoes. “I could, but that would not be as satisfactory as when you are awake and well aware that my actions are very, very real.”

“What the fuck.” You shake your head, getting up out of bed. “What do you want to say to me tonight, huh? You always seem to have some shit to say about Sans.”

“Because he is untrustworthy,” he tells you. “He cannot even admit to all of you what he had done to me. How sad.”

“Are you sure you’re not the one who’s wrong?” you ask.

Gaster tuts, walking over to the small writing desk that’s found in every room. He gestures to the top of it.

“Shall we pick up where we last left off?” he asks. You peer over to see that there are photographs littered across the table, as well as a black photo album that’s propped open with only some of the spaces filled in on the page.

Right. This is where you organize your memories, your thoughts, while Gaster watches and tries to convince you that Sans isn’t worth your time.

“Not up for it,” you say, trying to see if you can make this go a different route.

“Are you sure?” he asks. “It is important for you to look back and see how things truly happened. You know that I have been watching all this time.”

“But you know that I don’t believe you,” you retort. “I don’t really appreciate all of the middle of the night visits inside my head, either. I really wish you wouldn’t do that.”

“You say that as if you have a choice in the matter,” he snorts. “Do not flatter yourself. You are all pawns in a much bigger game, in which I am one of the players.”

“And I’m guessing this is just a game of time-space chess with Sans?”

Another snort. “You are not wrong.”

“So, what now, Gaster? I’m not playing your game,” you say.

“If you do not organize your thoughts, you will be lost.”

You shrug. “Doesn’t matter to me. I have friends that will guide me through this. All I need to do is support them.”

Gaster laughs, and it feels like time slows down. It’s a terrifying sound that grates on your nerves. Maybe it’s just because this is a nightmare, maybe it’s because he scares you even when you’re awake and he’s nowhere to be found. Maybe he might actually hurt you inside this dream. You’re not sure what’s going to happen, and you can’t help but shudder.

“So, little human,” he says once he’s calmed down, “you think that everything you’ve done up until now has been worth it? You think that being a human tangled up in monster affairs is a fun thing?”

“I wouldn’t call this mess fun, per se,” you say. “Being with them and having a good time is fun, and helping them through hard times feels good. I like being able to help them.”

“So selfish, helping with the intention on making yourself feel like you’re a good person,” he scoffs.

“You know that’s not it,” you say. “You have total access to my thoughts while you’re here, don’t you? That’s how you keep reading my mind. You know that none of this is just me being selfish.”

He says nothing for a long, long moment.

“You are a pawn,” he says, “and I would like to think that I have successfully captured you. Sit back and relax, my dear, because I will make all of this go about in the way that I want it to. There is nothing that you nor anyone else can do to stop me.”

He walks over to the door to the room and twists the knob. “I will speak to you tomorrow night. Keep your thoughts open for me.”

“Fuck off,” you reply, as you always do. He walks through the door.

 

 

And you sit up quickly, clutching the blankets to your chest, feeling Sans roll off of the bed with a loud thud. You’re struggling to breathe properly, and you focus all of your attention on Sans when he sits on the edge of your bed in a panic, guiding you through deep breaths until you’re calmed down. You feel tears still streaming down your face.

“what happened? another nightmare? are you ok?” he asks frantically, brushing hair from your face.

“I’m okay,” you say after another breath. “I’m okay. It’s okay.”

“relax,” he coaxes. “what... what happened?”

You don’t know what part of that scared you so badly. In the moment, it all seemed like a normal conversation, if you can call any conversation that you have with Gaster in your dreams normal. You shake your head.

“I don’t really remember,” you say, and it’s not a lie. “It was pretty much the same as always.”

Sans almost looks defeated. “are you sure? nothing bad happened? nothing different?”

“The conversation was pretty much the same,” you say. “The place was just different.”

“i... see,” he says. “well, uh, i’m gonna go find some coffee. you look like you’ll need it.”

You smile warmly at him. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

He presses a hand against your cheek for a few seconds before he gets up and takes the room key from the bedside table. He pockets it and heads out the door.

Now that you’re alone, you find yourself holding your breath. You’d better get that dream written down before you forget. You stand and rummage through your bag until you find the journal and the pen where you buried them so that Sans wouldn’t see when you took clothes out or something. While you’re at it, you go ahead and pull out the stuff you’re going to need for today and set it aside on the bed. You think it’s probably the most wise to put yourself in the bathroom until you’re done - you don’t really like hiding the journal from Sans, given that you tell him more or less what happens in the nightmares, but you also told Papyrus that you’d keep the journals and the meetings a secret. If nothing else, you’re going to stick to your word.

You take your clothes into the bathroom with you, deciding that maybe you can get in the shower and hide the journal and pen in your dirty clothes when you come back out and just shove everything back in your bag. You lock the door and sit on the lowered seat of the toilet, working to get everything written down as quickly as you can. Sans should be back soon, and you’d like to at least be done with your shower before he is. A quick summary followed by a statement that you’re not sure what scared you so badly this time seems to be sufficient, and you strip down and hide the journal in your dirty clothes. You hop in the shower and get clean as quick as you think you can get away with and get out, putting on your bathing suit under your chosen t-shirt and shorts. You gather up your clothes pile and walk out of the bathroom just in time to see Sans come in through the door.

“Not teleporting?” you ask, putting the stuff in your bag. He shrugs and hands you a cup of coffee.

“tryin’ to limit my use of the void,” he tells you. “don’t know how it affects him.”

You nod. “You about ready? Do you know if anyone else is up?”

“yeah. ran into pap in the hall,” he says. “ready to go.”

“You haven’t gotten dressed,” you say.

“ain’t plannin’ on participating.”

“Come on, you need to!”

He shakes his head.

“I know you brought some kind of bathing suit.”

“uh, trunks.”

“Put them on! Come on!”

He groans and walks around the bed to his own bag, digging out a pair of red and white swim trunks with little crabs lining the bottoms of the legs. He drops his shorts and steps into the trunks before you can manage to avert your eyes, chugging down what you can of your coffee before abandoning it .

“what, never seen a pelvis before?” he asks with a wink.

“Not that bare,” you tell him.

“i’ll make sure you get a chance to have a thorough, personal introduction.”

You will the heat to leave your face before you turn towards the door to the room. You make sure that your room key is in your bag, along with some sunscreen and other essentials, and Sans opens the door and gestures for you to go out into the hallway.  Papyrus is waiting out there, looking dapper as always in his loudly colored and patterned swim trunks and obnoxiously yellow arm floaties. There’s sunscreen smeared on his face along his cheekbones and above his nasal cavity, and he’s got some pretty cool shades on.

“EVERYONE IS IN THE LOBBY! COME ON!” he urges excitedly.

“we’re comin’, bro,” Sans says.

You follow Papyrus as he walks briskly into the lobby. Toriel and the others are gathered in a semi-circle, as you’ve noticed that they normally do, talking about something, all dressed in fairly modest bathing suits. Toriel smiles at you when she sees you.

“Now that we’re all here,” Undyne says before Toriel manages to open her mouth to speak, “let’s GO, I’m ready to swim!”

She and Papyrus put their arms around each other’s shoulders and proceed to start chanting something that you can’t quite make out due to the volume of their voices. Toriel laughs and shakes her head and starts ushering the duo out of the hotel lobby as the receptionist starts clearing their throat at your group. You offer a sheepish smile and a small wave before you let Asgore herd the rest of you out the door.

The entrance to the water park a little closer to the hotel than the amusement park is despite being in the same direction. Everyone gets checked in with the day passes that you had acquired before the trip, and you fully expect everyone to scatter.

Except they don’t.

Everyone rather calmly follows Toriel to a patch of grass where there’s a ginormous umbrella set up, maybe half the height of a one story building and creating a good ten-foot circle of shade on the ground. Toriel lays out a few towels and settles down on one of them, and everyone else lays down whatever belongings they brought.

“I will stay here with our things,” she says. “Go and have fun, alright?”

You almost feel bad leaving her there, but when you see her reach into her own bag and pull out a hefty book that you haven’t seen her sit down to read in over a month, that’s more than enough to convince you that this is her idea of fun today. You watch everyone begin to split off into small groups to go explore - Alphys, Undyne, and Papyrus head off in one direction while Asgore and Frisk head in the other. That leaves you with Sans, standing near Toriel, both halfheartedly looking around.

“so,” he says. “you know i’m not really one for movin’ around a whole lot...”

You look over at him.

“so i doubt there’d be anything here that i’d like, so i think that i should just head back--”

“There’s the lazy river,” you say.

That very obviously piques his interest.

“You sit in an inner tube and just kind of float,” you go on. “The current carries you around and you can stay there as long as you want, I’m pretty sure.”

“that sounds ideal,” he says. He almost looks excited.

“Your bones won’t bleach in the sun?” you ask.

“no? i’m made of magic.”

“Monsters don’t tan or burn,” Toriel says matter-of-factly.

“Good to know,” you say.

You still take your time lathering up with sunscreen. Just to be absolutely safe.

 

 

You’ve decided that you can only be in the lazy river for so long.

You’re not sure how much time has passed since you and Sans got in, and you’re pretty sure he’s asleep because he doesn’t respond when you tell him you’re getting out. You go back to see Toriel, feeling that your skin is too warm and that maybe being out of the sun for a little bit would be a good thing. Toriel looks happily engrossed in her book, so you lay out another towel in the shade and start people watching, doing your best not to disturb her.

“Are you finished?” she asks. “It has been quite some time since everyone left.”

You look over, and she’s gesturing to her book, which she’s made some significant progress in.

“I thought it might be a good idea to sit in the shade for a bit,” you tell her.

She nods, turning her attention back to her book. You look back out over the park, watching a lifeguard trying to explain to two young boys why roughhousing in the water can be dangerous.

“You know,” Toriel starts again. “This was a very good idea.”

“Yeah?”

“Getting out of the house, having a couple of days purely for enjoyment, having a chance to finally read my book again...” She smiles warmly over at you. “I greatly appreciate this opportunity. I cannot say that I have not worried about our situation at all during this trip, but it is very nice to be able to relax and unwind a bit.”

You smile. “You needed it,” you tell her. “It’s not good to be that stressed out.”

“I know. I think that now, I can wait a little more patiently for a resolution to be presented.”

“I’m glad,” you say, and you really are. It was awful watching her pace around, constantly calling meetings to go over the same information over and over.

Part of you wants to tell her about the dreams right now, but you’re not even sure if they bear any real significance. You all know that Gaster doesn’t like Sans, and he threatened to take away you and Papyrus from him in front of everyone. The dream walking is just his method of doing it. At least, you’re pretty sure that’s all it is.

“You look lost in thought,” she says gently.

“Oh,” you say. “I’m alright. Just thinking that today’s been really fun. This whole weekend was.”

“We leave in the morning,” she says. “Then it is back to the daily grind, as I hear you say.”

You smile at her again, looking up as two children run past.

“Someone’s been in the lazy river so long that they turned into a _skeleton_!” one yells.

“This is so cool!” the other shouts.

You sigh. “Maybe I should go fish Sans out of there,” you say. Toriel laughs into her paw.

“He must have fallen asleep,” she says.

“I’m pretty sure that he did.”

 

 

All of the children are pretty disappointed to find out that nobody actually died in the lazy river.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually went to a water park yesterday and that gave me the motivation to finally finish this chapter :3


	54. Journals Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I should have named the first journal chapter "COOL DUDE" and then this one "COOL FRIEND"

It’s been another week.

Toriel was almost completely relaxed after the little vacation you all took, but now that time is passing, you can see her starting to get more and more strained. So far, she’s refrained from holding any more meetings - you think that Sans finally got through to her and convinced her that there really isn’t anything she can do but wait - but that doesn’t stop her from trying to talk to all of you privately about it. She’s been on you quite a few times in the past couple of weeks, asking if you’ve seen anything or heard anything while you’ve been out at work. You always tell her no, and while that isn’t really the truth, you can’t tell her or anyone else about the nightmares (at least, not any more than what Sans already knows) without discussing it with Papyrus first.

That’s why you’re at the skeleton brothers’ apartment today.

You’ve just gotten off work, so you’re still in your uniform of a nice button down shirt and black slacks, covered with a dark green apron. You know you still smell like flowers. Papyrus has already ushered you into the house and has had you sit down on the couch, and is currently making tea. You decide to slip off your apron and leave it folded on the arm of the couch beside you. After a couple of minutes, he returns with two steaming cups. He places them down on the coffee table. 

“DID YOU BRING YOURS?” he asks you.

“Yeah.” You reach into your bag and pull out your dream journal. He smiles and walks off to his room, returning with his own. 

“SO. WHERE SHOULD WE START?”

You shrug. “Things have been getting pretty bad,” you tell him. “He’s been very forceful, very... demanding. It’s like he’s getting frustrated that I won’t just leave Sans.”

“IT IS THE SAME FOR ME,” Papyrus says. “HE SEEMS TO BE GETTING VIOLENT. I AM AFRAID, SEEING THAT HE SAYS THAT HOWEVER HE HARMS ME IN MY DREAMS, IT WILL CARRY OVER TO REAL LIFE.”

That makes you shudder a little bit. He’s told you the same thing multiple times. 

“I don’t know how much I really believe that,” you say slowly, “but I do think that these aren’t normal dream circumstances and that we should be really careful.”

Papyrus nods, and the two of you fall into a very uncomfortable silence.

He lifts his tea, taking a sip. It still baffles you how whatever he puts in his mouth just... disappears, even though he does make swallowing motions (at least, as best that he can without muscles). 

You take a sip of yours as well. Golden flower. You’ve always wondered how this kind of tea makes Flowey feel. Does it make him uncomfortable? If he drank it, would it be considered cannibalism? You have a lot of questions about that.

You realize that both of you are avoiding getting into detail about the contents of the dreams.

“It’s getting really personal now,” you whisper.

Papyrus nods.

“IT MAKES ME QUITE UNCOMFORTABLE.”

“That makes two of us,” you agree.

You stare down at the closed journal in your lap. You want to share the details with Papyrus, to make sure that you guys are still on the same page and understanding each other, but with how completely personal and private the situations that he’s using against you in the dreams have been lately, you’re not sure that either of you are comfortable sharing with each other. You’re sure as hell not comfortable with it.

“W-WELL,” Papyrus starts, “MAYBE WE SHOULD... SHARE? DETAILS?”

You nod. “That’s... probably for the best.”

“I’LL START,” he says, puffing out his chest in order to make himself seem more confident. “HE LIKES TO BRING UP MY CHILDHOOD, TIMES WHERE I GOT HURT AND SANS WASN’T THERE, OR TIMES WHEN SANS WAS TOO BUSY IN THE LAB AND I WAS HOME BY MYSELF. HE... TRIES TO REMIND ME HOW SAD IT MADE ME, BUT NOW THAT I’M A GROWN SKELETON, I KNOW THAT SANS WAS JUST DOING HIS BEST TO PROVIDE FOR ME AND TO MAKE SURE THAT I COULD GROW UP SAFELY AND HAPPY!” 

“You mean everything to Sans,” you tell him. “Of course he only wanted to protect you.” You completely believe that.

“SOMETIMES I WOULD GET PICKED ON,” he goes on. “AND ONLY SOMETIMES, SANS WOULD COME TO MY RESCUE. BUT HE WASN’T ALWAYS AROUND TO DO THAT. SO SOMETIMES I GOT A LITTLE HURT. BUT I’M OKAY! THEY SAY THAT BRUISED BONES HARDEN AND BECOME STRONGER! NYEH HEH.”

This is starting to get kind of sad.

“GASTER TRIES TO TELL ME THAT SANS REALLY NEVER CARED, THAT HE’S SO LAZY THAT HE DOESN’T WANT TO TAKE CARE OF ME ANYMORE, NONSENSE LIKE THAT. BUT I DON’T BELIEVE HIM FOR A SECOND! WHILE SANS IS VERY LAZY AND LACKS WORK ETHIC, HE IS STILL VERY COOL! AND THE BEST BROTHER I COULD EVER ASK FOR!”

“aw, bro.”

You turn around to see Sans, who looks like he must have been standing there for at least a couple of minutes. He looks concerned.

“i don’t mean to intrude your secret meeting or whatever, but what’s this about gaster talkin’ to you?” 

Papyrus looks at you, sweating. 

Should you... tell him?

He seems to be asking you the same question with his expression. You give him a slight nod. You might as well get it over with. You can’t keep it a secret from him for long. 

“I DID NOT WANT TO TELL YOU,” Papyrus starts slowly, carefully, continuously looking back to you, “UNTIL WE WERE SURE OF WHAT WAS GOING ON. BUT IT TURNS OUT THAT OUR HUMAN FRIEND AND I HAVE BEEN HAVING MUCH OF THE SAME... GASTER-RELATED NIGHTMARES.”

Sans freezes.

“what..?” 

“We were going to tell you eventually,” you say. “We were just worried about it putting you under more stress than you’re already under.”

“THERE IS NOTHING THAT HE CAN DO TO HURT US IN DREAMS!”

“And we’ve been talking about them regularly, writing them down, keeping track of everything so we could compare and make sure you know absolutely everything when we did tell you.”

“WHICH IS NOW!”

Sans still looks like he’s totally suspended in disbelief. His eye lights fade until they’re almost completely void of light, and there’s sweat starting to bead on his skull. 

“Sans..?”

“i’m good. yep. it’s ok. you two were keepin’ secrets but not for bad reasons,” he says, as if rationalizing the situation more for himself than anyone else. “so, uh, what’s... been going on?”

“Maybe you should read these?” you suggest, looking to Papyrus for permission. He nods almost enthusiastically. 

Sans sits between the two of you on the couch, reading carefully through first Papyrus’ journal, then yours. He doesn’t look up, ask questions, he doesn’t do anything. When it’s time to switch to yours, he holds his hand out to you and you place the book in it. When he’s done with that, he holds them both open, comparing them entry by entry, remaining silent the whole time. You occupy yourself staring at the wall, thinking about how life got to this point, how things got so crazy. You think about some of the weird things that happened at work today. People request flowers for the oddest occasions. You think more about Flowey drinking golden flower tea. That’s starting to really bother you - you’ll definitely have to ask him later on. You look at your tea cup on the coffee table, long forgotten and far too cold to drink now. That’s one tea that just doesn’t taste right iced. You’ve tried. 

The sound of both books snapping shut startles you from your stupor. You look over at Sans once again.

“this is... interesting.” He’s using his scientist voice. Oh man. “he really hates me, huh? enough to try to keep you two from gettin’ a good night’s sleep. what a dick.”

“SANS, LANGUAGE.”

“it’s not a curse word, it’s a body part.”

“IT’S STILL DIRTY.”

“not if you clean it.” Sans winks. Papyrus groans. “anyways, i think this is interesting. given how he progressively gets worse, acts like a bigger douche--”

“LANGUAGE!”

“it’s a sanitary item, paps. but i’ve been able to feel him getting stronger. the void doesn’t feel as... weird. there’s no real way to explain it to other people, i guess. but it only makes sense that he’s getting more violent as he gets more stronger. he can afford to.”

“Does that... mean something?” you ask. You kind of have an idea of where this is going but you’re not sure you’re right. Every time you think you’ve got Sans understood, the complete opposite is going on.

“yeah,” he says. “it means that maybe we can use the severity of your dreams, you know, how much he’s acting out, to guess how close he is to coming after us.” He looks pretty happy with himself on this one, actually. 

“I AM GLAD THAT MY RESTLESS SLEEP CAN BE OF USE,” Papyrus says proudly. 

You smile over at him, then at Sans. Maybe this is something that really could be of use to everyone else. That makes you feel kind of better about the whole situation. These dreams are a pain in the ass but if they can somehow help, you’re ready to have them for as long as you need to.

Besides, you can get good sleep when this is all over.

“but there’s one thing,” Sans says.

There’s the other shoe.

“we gotta tell tori about this.”

You figured.

You’re a little uncomfortable with that - as you and Papyrus have discussed, things get extremely personal when Gaster starts to speak in nasty tongues, and there’s definitely some things written in there that Sans was part of that you wouldn’t want Toriel to read more than you’d hate to have your own mother read it. Still, you figure it’s necessary, and it may put Toriel at ease. 

“...Okay,” you agree. “She can look at mine all she wants to. But if Pap wants to keep his private, then--”

“IF YOUR PRIVACY IS BEING VIOLATED THEN IT IS ONLY FAIR FOR MINE TO BE AS WELL!” Papyrus interjects. He reaches over his brother to envelope one of your hands in his much larger (and bonier) one. “YOU ARE NOT THE ONLY ONE HAVING THESE DREAMS. THIS IS SOMETHING WE DO TOGETHER UNTIL THE END!”

“Hopefully the end is sooner rather than later,” you breathe.

“YOU DO NOT LIKE SPENDING THIS QUALITY ALONE TIME WITH YOUR COOLEST FRIEND?”

“No! I do! I just--”

“NYEH HEH. FEAR NOT, HUMAN, FOR I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, UNDERSTAND THAT BEING IN MY PRESENCE SO OFTEN CAN DO NOTHING BUT FLUSTER YOU!” 

He seems so confident in himself. You can do nothing but smile and nod. 

“we should, uh, take these to her right now,” Sans suggests.

You nod, grabbing your apron off of the side of the couch, and the three of you stand, Sans taking your hands so that you’re standing in a semi-circle, and the crackle of magic in the air tells you that you’re headed back home.

“My car is still in your parking garage,” you tell Sans as you step out into Toriel’s house.

“i’ll bring it back later,” he says. 

You shrug. You hear clattering in the kitchen, meaning that Toriel is most likely the one in there. Judging by the lack of delicious smells wafting through the house, you guess that she’s doing dishes. 

“TORIEL!” Papyrus calls, heading for the kitchen with both journals in hand, knowing fully well that he will be the one to reach her with his ridiculously loud voice. “WE HAVE TO TALK TO YOU. IT’S URGENT.”

The water shuts off immediately, and you round the corner to see her drying her paws on a dish towel.

“What is the matter?” she asks. “What are those books?”

“We should sit down,” you suggest. 

She gives you an odd look before following you to the table. You all sit at one end of the table instead of spreading out to your normal seats. Papyrus places the two journals in front of her.

“We weren’t sure that these had any significance,” you start out, “so Paps and I kept them just between us for a little while. We’ve both been having these... nightmares. Involving Gaster. And Sans happened to walk in while we were comparing notes today and he, um, made a connection.”

You look to Sans.

“uh. right. so if you read through the journals, which they decided that you can, you’d see that gaster’s mannerisms are on a trend of becoming more violent, more... irritable.” 

“Sans, I am not sure what is even going on.”

“READ THE JOURNALS,” Papyrus says. “THEN WE WILL CONTINUE.”

Toriel gives you another odd look before opening Papyrus’ first and reading through it, then through yours. She has an almost horrified look on her face. 

“Well, I did not know that such things have... happened in your lives,” she says.

“anyways,” Sans goes on, “i can kinda feel through the void that g’s gettin’ stronger, but it was just a hunch. i think usin’ how these dreams go as kind of a guide can help us be a little more prepared for when he might come back.”

“That is... a good idea,” Toriel says. “Thank you for bringing these to my attention. But I expect all of you to be more open about these dreams and journals with me from here on out. This is important.”

“Yeah,” you agree.

“OF COURSE!” Papyrus seconds.

“Then it is settled. Now, why don’t one of you help me--”

The doorbell rings. You and Sans both stand to get it. Papyrus ushers Toriel back into the kitchen and begins to help her put away dishes. You follow Sans to the door. 

It cracks open, and you see a flustered looking Spencer in the doorway. His eyes flick from Sans to you and back again, and when he opens his mouth to speak, his eyes squeeze shut, his words absolutely without a doubt directed at Sans.

“D-do you wanna go out with me?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about things coming kind of sporadically. I started a second job, I'm doing stuff for school, and trying to get a lot of other stuff done in between. It's kind of nice to have this one here for when I have downtime and want to relax.  
> We're closing in on the end! Six chapters to go!  
> [My Currently Inactive Tumblr (Activity coming soon!)](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)


	55. Dating Start!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not what you're expecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been like a month.  
> Check the end notes for a kind of announcement? because i'm too lazy to post it on tumblr.  
> Speaking of tumblr,  
> [Tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)

Sans looks absolutely mortified. 

Spencer looks hopeful, but you can see his expression starting to shift to panic.

You’re... kind of amused, actually, but mostly confused.

“what..?” Sans says.

“Do you wanna go out? Tonight?” Spencer tries again. He sounds uncertain this time.

Even from your stance slightly behind him, you know Sans’ eye sockets are completely void  of light. 

“why would you--”

“Oh man, I don’t mean--”

“what  _ do _ you mean?”

“Sans,” you say, “let him finish his sentence.”

You take a few steps forward, using an arm to try to usher Sans backwards to let Spencer into the house. You shut the front door behind the blond. He seems a little reluctant to come in the house, his cheeks stained red. It’s kind of cute.

“It isn’t such a big deal that I have to come in,” he murmurs.

“You looked so awkward just standing on the doorstep,” you tell him. “There’s no reason for you not to come in and sit down.”

Sans looks flustered, but he does head into the living room without another word. Spencer hesitates at the door, pulling off his sneakers before following. He plops down on the couch when Sans sits on the loveseat, seeming to want to keep his distance. The poor boy looks awfully flustered. You take the seat beside Sans. You can hear Toriel and Papyrus still busy in the kitchen, and you figure that putting away dishes probably can’t take  _ this _ long, even with all of the people in and out of this house at meal times. You think one (or both) of them heard Spencer and have decided to give the three of you some privacy.

“Okay, so,” Spencer starts after one more deep breath. “I, uh, that totally came out wrong the first time?”

“and the second time was better?”

“Th-the second time was wrong too!”

Sans gives him a quizzical look.

“Look, uh, Sans, there’s some stuff I wanted to talk to you about. And uh.” He turns his gaze to you. “There’s something I wanted to tell you about, too.”

“Like what?” you ask.

“Gotta do it over dinner.”

Sans’ hand inches towards you until he’s got a firm grasp on your wrist. You can almost feel the tension radiating off of him, as if it’s brand new and totally wasn’t there at all this whole time.

“Come on, just...” Spencer shakes his head and looks up at you, his brown eyes pleading. “There’ll be one more person. That I’ll be there with specifically. Does that... make it better?”

“So like... a double date?”

He nods.

Sans still looks pretty terrified of the concept, but his grip on you relaxes a bit. 

“Anyways, Sans, you kind of, uh, scare me a little? So I think a group setting would be best to talk to you,” Spencer goes on, kind of rambling. “And then I can get both conversations that I want to have out of the way. Two birds with one stone?”

“sounds like a solid plan to me,” Sans says. He definitely sounds a lot more relaxed.

“Where should we meet you?” you ask. “And when?”

“Uh. Soon? Grillby’s? I think... that’s the most comfortable for us. The person I’m bringing frequents there, so...”

“Okay. Yeah. Grillby’s sounds good,” you say, thinking back to that time that you had been sent home with ketchup for Sans and then managed to never give it to him. You’d like to rectify that. Still, you look to Sans for his approval.

“yeah, i’m down,” he says. 

  
  
  


Spencer had decided to let the two of you meet him at Grillby’s; he admitted that he wanted to give himself a little time to calm himself down before you all met up. Sans thought that was extremely amusing, and you told Spencer not to worry, there’s no reason not to have a civil conversation, everything will be fine. You’ll just have to keep Sans in line and make sure he doesn’t give the poor guy too much of a hard time. 

Grillby’s is as warm and intimate as it always is, and with the way that Sans visibly relaxes his shoulders and the way his jaw is set when he enters, you think that maybe Spencer did his homework when picking the venue, especially if this is going to result in Spencer and Sans serious talk time. You wonder if you’ll get along with whoever Spencer brought with him. You look around until you see the messy mop of blond in one of the booths on the other side of the bar, sitting next to someone mostly obscured by the fact that Spencer is definitely blocking your view. He perks up and waves to you, gesturing for you to come join him. Alright. You lead Sans across the bar, hoping that he stays as calm and relaxed as he is, and slide into the booth across from him and whoever his date might be. 

His date turns out to be...

Hold up.

“Heya, dollface.” That’s a smug grin you know all too well.

Hold on just a goddamn second.

There’s literally only one person in the world you know that wears a hood in the summer and has a beautifully placed septum piercing.

“Nolan, I was... most definitely not expecting you to be here at all,” you say. 

“You wound me!” he exclaims dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “So, breaking news, Spencer was so obsessed with me that--”

“Oh my god Nolan that’s not how we agreed to tell them.”

“Okay fine, he was so obsessed with my artwork that he was following me around like a lost puppy,” Nolan tries again, “and, you know, we got to talking. And talking turned into texting and hanging out a lot while you were awol.” He jabs a finger in your direction, but it seems playful.

“And, well, here we are?” Spencer’s conclusion comes out as more of a question, but this...

This is really cute. Wow. 

“I’m happy for you guys,” you find yourself saying, and it’s true. You are happy for them. They look pretty good together. 

“grats,” Sans says, propping his elbow on the table and resting his chin in his palm. “guess this means you really weren’t gonna try and jump my bones.” 

Spencer almost chokes on the glass of water he’s trying to drink, and Nolan just looks more than a little amused. He half stands and calls for Grillby.

“You were tryin’ to jump Sans’ bones?” he says incredulously. 

Oh man, you were worried about keeping Sans in line, but knowing Nolan’s here... 

Poor Spencer. 

“When I went to ask them to come, it totally came out wrong!” Spencer’s face is slowly turning the same color as Grillby’s, who has just come by to deposit three of those blackberry drinks and one bottle of ketchup for Sans. Nolan absently tosses him some cash, and the flame monster picks it up. Somehow, it doesn’t go up in flames. Hadn’t he burned you before? You’ll have to ask Sans how that works later.

“And how did it come out wrong? Sans, would you kindly  _ come for _ \--”

“Nolan oh my god!” 

Sans falls into a fit of snickers, and Nolan isn’t too far behind. 

“Well!” you interject, trying to save the day a little bit. “I’m really happy for you guys. But Spencer? Wasn’t there something else you wanted to talk about?”

“Oh, right!” The blond looks absolutely relieved that you’re changing the subject. “Uh, Sans. I know you don’t really like me all that much--”

“who said i didn’t like you?” Sans tries.

You nudge him with your elbow. He had thought that Spencer was behind the whole monster killing cult thing. 

“ok, ok, fine. it’s hard for me to trust people,” Sans admits. 

“Um. Well. That’s, uh, understandable? Especially because suddenly humans and monsters have more or less been at war?” Spencer shakes his head. “The more I talk the worse I sound. Oh god. Let me try again. I never expected you to trust me right away. Or at all. I just wanted to be friends with you and _____.”

“You succeeded,” you say, “at least with me.”

“I know.” He has a very warm smile, and you see Nolan catch his hand on the table and hold onto it. So cute. “I just. I want you to know,” he goes on, turning his attention back to Sans, “that I don’t, uh, mean any harm? I’m not trying to, uh, well--”

“He’s not out to steal your girl,” Nolan fills in.

“That’s not what I--”

“Uh, technically, we’re not--”

“i wasn’t really worried about that,” Sans says, his voice dripping confidence. Oh, wow. Okay. He’s not denying that you’re, uh, his, so this is something. Definitely something. And you definitely don’t hate this something.

Spencer blinks once, twice, and then smiles. “Okay. Good. I’d like to spend more time with you. Both of you. Become better friends? I mean, friends with you in general, Sans, and better friends with-- just. Better friends. Good friends. With both of you. Yes.”

Normally Spencer speaks with some level of confidence, with the goofy demeanor you’ve grown to associate with him, but this time, he’s all nerves. Maybe it’s because Sans is in the mix. Maybe because things are different when Nolan is around. You don’t think you can ever really be sure on that one, but it’s kind of precious. The more you look at him, the more you see this boy as a little brother or cousin or something. He just warms your heart.

“We’ll be great friends,” you say, beaming at him. “I’m pretty sure Nolan won’t let it slide if we don’t hang out more, so--”

“Obviously I won’t let it slide,” Nolan chirps. 

Everyone seems more or less happy, but Sans... 

Sans gives you a look that reads more or less like the two of you will be having yet another private conversation when you get home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nolan and Spencer were destined to be together since day one.  
> ATTENTION ALL FRIENDS:  
> Hi how are you I hope you're all doing good and that you're flourishing like the perfect little trash plants that you are <3  
> I'm sort of in a rut. A writing rut. In case you couldn't tell. Plus having a new job and trying to get my life together, doing school stuff, etc, lots is going on. I want to thank you guys for sticking with me over the last 13 months that I've been working on this and for always and forever being patient with my spontaneity.  
> I've been thinking about this fic a little, trying to plan out the end, but I feel like no matter what I do, if I keep the cap at 60 chapters, the ending will be rushed no matter what. So, I'm taking the cap off, letting the end point be unknown once again, and I'm just going to... write. Until this fic is over. Then move on to the next. **I cannot and will not give any kind of update schedule**. My life is too crazy for that shit.
> 
> **TL;DR:** I'm trying to get back in the swing of things, my dudes, thanks for the patience and also take care of yourselves please.


	56. The Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you and Sans try to have that conversation.  
> Key word: Try

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is 100% literally just low quality smut. Like zero plot point. Totally skippable.  
> You're welcome.  
> Also life is a bitch and so is procrastination.  
> Also also im posting from my phone so the formatting may be wonky idk ill fix it later

Spencer and Nolan were a delight to have dinner with (not that you’d ever expect yourself to call Nolan a delight outside of a joke; usually he’s kind of a jerk). With the air finally clear between Spencer and Sans, the conversation became easy, the night goes on without a hitch. You’re happy. Sans seems happy, and that makes you happier. Saying your goodbyes had almost been bittersweet, but with a promise to see them again soon, you and Sans teleport back to Toriel’s, straight into your bedroom to avoid waking everyone up.

It’s late. Like, the middle of the night late. Three in the morning late. You’re not entirely tired yet, coming down from the buzz that you got from that first and only drink you had (you had switched to water after the first drink Grillby had brought to you), and Sans doesn’t look very tired either. He looks… lost in thought. You sit down on the edge of your bed and kick your shoes off while he hangs back near the door. Neither of you had bothered to turn on the light, so you can barely make out his form as your eyes are still adjusting.

“You alright?” you ask him.

“yeah.”

You hum, then pat a spot on the bed next to you, trying to get him to come sit by you. He shuffles his feet and stays put.

“look, uh, what i said back there,” he starts, slowly. “when nolan referred to you as, uh, mine?” He says the word “mine” very slowly, like he’s not sure how he feels about it. There’s a pause. You can’t speak for him, but you kind of like how that sounds. The silence drags on a little too long for your liking.

“You don’t feel like it made me uncomfortable or something, do you?” you ask.

“maybe?” he says. “i know how you reacted when i bit you. that was a weird way to say the same thing? that you’re mine? and you really didn’t like it then so there’s no reason you’d like it now.”

Oh. That’s what’s got him worried. You don’t entirely blame him on that one.

“That was different,” you tell him. “I didn’t like that so much because, well, we were drunk. And it came out of nowhere, at least as far as I’m concerned. And you never asked or anything. But I’ve told you already that you’re forgiven for that--”

“never apologized--”

“I know.” You shake your head. Your eyes are now adjusted enough that you can see how nervous he looks standing over there, like you’re going to tell him to go home and not sleep in the bed with you. “Hey, it was in the past. Before we got… closer?” Oh god, okay, this conversation is happening right this very moment.

“we are closer, aren’t we?” he murmurs.

“Yeah, close enough that I don’t hate the idea of being yours,” you say, forcing the words out of your mouth just a little too quickly. You sound more flustered than you are.

“oh?” He sounds genuinely surprised.

“I’ve made it pretty clear how much I care for you, I think,” you say.

“you said before that i don’t own you.”

You think. You definitely did say that. “That was before I forgave you.”

“but now i’m forgiven and suddenly have ownership of a human?”

“I wouldn’t call it ownership,” you tell him. “You definitely don’t _own_ me.”

He walks towards you, stopping when he’s right in front of you, just a little too close. You look up to meet his gaze. There’s something about the way he’s looking at you that you’re really liking if the heat rising on your face is any indicator. His grin is almost predatory, the hesitation from earlier gone from his expression, and you get the feeling that this conversation is on its way to involving a lot less talking.

“what would you call it, then?” His voice is low, quiet, and travels straight to somewhere that is decidedly not your ears.

You open your mouth to say something, to say anything, but nothing finds its way out. You’re forced to close it when the tips of some very skeletal fingers trail along your jawline.

“i know i don’t own you,” he says softly. “you’re too much of a free spirit for that. too strong-willed. and it’s not a bad thing.” He leans forward, his teeth dangerously close to your ear, his hot breath caressing your skin.

He ducks his head down, pressing his teeth against where he had left The Mark™ so long ago, but not parting them, not biting down. Still, your breath quickens in anticipation.

“i think, uh, i like the challenge you bring?” he tries. “you’re not easy. i have to work at it with you. hell, if i slip up, i get hot coffee on my head.”

“I apologized for that,” you tell him. He’s slowly leaning you back until you have to prop yourself up on your elbows, your legs still hanging off the edge of the bed.

“i know.” You don’t break away from his gaze as you scoot yourself further onto the bed, making room for him to properly climb over you, his knees between your legs. He plants his hands on either side of your head.

“So what’s the problem?” you ask.

“no problem,” he says. “unless you wanna count the fact that i’m not even sure that you’re ok with this right now.”

Your survey the situation. Lights are out. It’s the middle of the night. Everyone is asleep, nobody would interrupt you, but then again, if you wind up getting too loud, the two goat monsters that act as your parents are not very far away from you right now. They might come in thinking something is wrong, or _worse_ , they’d tease you about it. You’d call the chances of you getting too loud pretty probable; the look on Sans’ face as he watches you lay down completely is telling you that he has no intentions of being careful.

“I think this maybe isn’t the best place, what with everyone being home,” you say.

“a change of scenery can be arranged,” he tells you.

He shifts so that he grabs you by the wrists, and when you blink, you’re falling a couple of inches onto another bed. Equally dark, but unfamiliar. You look around, seeing piles of what kind of looks like clothes and garbage. You see the vague outline of a treadmill shoved into the corner, but with the way Sans starts demandingly nipping at your neck, you don’t really have the attention span to continue to look around.

“Is this..?”

“my place.” His voice is low and rough and you think he’s probably done with talking for now.

“But Paps--”

If this is his place and Papyrus hears any kinds of distressed-sounding noises, he’ll come to investigate for sure, and you do _not_ want to have the skeletons-and-humans talk with him right now.

“at undyne’s,” he tells you, sounding clipped. He licks a stripe from your shoulder to just underneath your jawline.

Oh, okay, good, so nobody will be here to interrupt. Cool beans.

Somehow, that makes you a little more nervous.

Sans gets off of you so that he can make you sit up, then starts the slow process of inching your shirt up your belly. You shudder as the cold air of the room hits your skin. The tips of his fingers trace under your breasts, then his hands slide up over them and he gives them a soft squeeze. You lift your arms when he returns to the hem of your shirt, and he tugs it over your head and tosses it out of sight, out of mind.

He latches himself back onto your neck, undoubtedly leaving more marks, as soon as the shirt is out of the way. He runs his hands over your back, kneading into your flesh as he works his way up to the clasp of your bra. It takes him a solid minute to get that one figured out, accompanied by a string of curses muttered under his breath, but you can’t bring yourself to tease him. Especially now that your bra is forgotten on the floor and his head is dipping to allow his tongue to run over each of your nipples in turn.

“remember to tell me if i’m doin’ ok,” he mutters before returning to his ministrations.

You only whimper in response as he eases you onto your back once again, moving your hands up into his shirt to hook into his ribs. He makes a quiet noise and lets his hands wander further down, moving over your navel until he reaches the waistband of your pants. He seems a lot less hesitant  - can he hear your heart hammering in your ears? - as he unbuttons them. You lift your hips so that he can slide them off. He brings your panties down with them, sending the clothes off probably into another dimension once you get them kicked off, and with literally zero warning, he plunges a finger into you.

Oh. You’re _wet_ , and you had been too focused on him to even notice. His finger curls into you, each thrust meeting very little resistance from you. It feels nice, you like this, but it’s not enough.

“Sans,” you whine, and you think your voice has conveyed every ounce of need you’re feeling perfectly. You’re actually embarrassed by your tone. He looks up and meets your gaze, his eyelights hazy yet somehow focused at the same time. A dark blue makes its way over his face as he drinks in the look on yours.

“more?” he asks, any confidence he had before waning.

“Please,” you affirm.

He looks like you just handed him a winning lottery ticket.

He removes his finger from you and rocks back onto his knees, pushing his shorts down enough to expose a soft blue glow you recognize from his tongue, but you know for sure that’s not what that is. You feel heat rising on your face as he gives it a couple of strokes and moves forward to press himself at your entrance.

“are you sure you want to..?” He looks up at your face once more, and you nod at him. He sucks in a breath and pushes into you.

Oh, dear god.

You underestimated this boy’s girth - granted, you didn’t get a good look at what he’s packing, but that’s totally not important right now. He thrusts slowly a couple of times until he bottoms out, hissing through his teeth, and then pauses, hesitates, looks back up at you. You’re a bit lost in how deliciously he’s stretching your walls and the almost staticky feeling of his magic against you, and you take a moment to adjust. He braces his hands on either side of you and hovers, his forehead resting against yours, looking impatient.

“can i--”

“ _Please_ ,” you interrupt, barely above a whisper.

He mutters a quick “fuck, ok” and pulls out most of the way before pushing back in. He takes his time working up to a pace that’s sure to drive you crazy, if the feeling of magic isn’t already enough to do that. He leans his head down next to yours, breathing against your neck and alternating between lazy licks and sharp bites to your collarbone. You let your fingertips and nails run over his bones as they please, eventually dipping into his ribcage. He shudders, letting out a shaky breath.

“shit, babe,” he mutters.

One of his hands snakes under your head, almost awkwardly knotting into your hair. He tugs at the roots, eliciting a whine from you. He looks at you with an almost startled expression that almost immediately morphs into a smug one as he tugs again.

“i-is this ok..?”

You hook your legs around him, encouraging him to go deeper and effectively silencing him. You can only whisper praises to him between breathy moans and shallow breaths. Your mind is blank aside from your intense focus on the electric feeling of magic seemingly coursing through your system, lost in the string of curses falling from Sans as his thrusts become more and more erratic. Heat coils in your abdomen, and every sign seems to be pointing to the fact that he’s not too far off either.

You pick up in volume, feeling like the world is simultaneously falling apart and coming back together again. You can feel Sans trying to pull out, stumbling over his words as he tries to get across that he’s about finished, but every fiber of your being screams at you not to let him. Though shaking, your legs tighten their grip on him, and he looks at you disbelievingly as he falls over the edge, his hips stuttering to a halt.

Your entire body suddenly feels electrified, like his magic is coursing through you, and the wonder of that added to everything else you’re feeling is more than enough to finish you off as well. Your grip tightens on his ribs, your walls grip him almost painfully, his name on your lips like a song. White blotches line your vision as you come down, letting go of him and watching as he scoots away from you, erection completely dissipated, just _gone_ , with a wildly intrigued look on his face.

“was that ok?”

You’re pretty sure you’ve never felt like that before. You barely hear him in your slightly dazed state.

“Yeah,” you say.

He grins, moving to lay beside you, nuzzling into your cheek.

“so, could you say… you enjoyed getting _boned_?”

It takes you more than a minute to catch his terribly timed joke. All the while, he’s shaking in silent laughter.

“Oh my god Sans,” is the only response you can give him.

He lets himself actually laugh, and it’s a beautiful, contagious sound. You can’t help but laugh with him.

  
He promises to finish that conversation with you in the morning.


	57. The Talk™V.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which The Talk™ finally happens.
> 
> EDIT: I APPARENTLY ALREADY HAD A CHAPTER CALLED THE TALK(TM) SO THIS IS V.2 NOW LOL I CANT KEEP TRACK OF ANYTHING

You wake up, still in Sans’ bed. 

You feel… sticky. Kind of gross. You want to get up and take a shower, but that’s a little hard with a skeleton draped over you, his ribs jabbing you through his shirt. Ouch. You nudge him a few times, then opt to shake him gently. A little rougher. There we go, his eye sockets are cracking open. 

“Come on,” you croak, “let me go shower.”

“nnn.” He nuzzles his face back into your chest. 

“Sans.”

“but you’re so comfy,” he complains. “why are humans so comfy.”

“Probably all the muscle and fat on our bones,” you say. He hums, and you can’t help but smile at his sleepy antics. You like this guy for a few reasons, and morning cuddles are one of them, even when it makes you late for things. 

“so. we, uh, did that last night,” he mumbles. 

Your heart stutters. “Yup.”

“cool.”

“Very.”

A pause. 

“you work today?” 

“I think so, yeah.”  
“oh.”

Another pause.

“So, about that shower--”

“SANS? YOU’RE HOME AND NOT WITH THE HUMAN??”

The bedroom door swings open. You’re met with Papyrus’ gaze as he stops himself from launching into some lecture or another and his face grows more and more orange by the second. You realize that you’re still very, very naked, and the blankets are a bit out of reach given the fact that Sans is still on you. Luckily, the smaller skeleton has the sense to pull up the corner of the blanket that he can reach to cover you at least most of the way.

“WELL.” Papyrus’ tone is… indescribable. “I SEE THAT YOU TWO HAVE TAKEN YOUR RELATIONSHIP TO THE NEXT LEVEL. WHILE SKIPPING A FEW STEPS. YOU SHOULD REALLY CONSULT THE DATING HANDBOOK IF YOU WISH TO DO THIS CORRECTLY, YOU TWO.” 

“sorry, pap.”

“I ALLOWED YOU TO BORROW IT FOR A REASON, BROTHER.”

“i know.”

“I AM ONLY THE SMALLEST BIT DISAPPOINTED. THE REST OF ME IS EXTREMELY EMBARRASSED.”

Same here, Paps, you think, your face undoubtedly burning.

“WHY DON’T YOU ALLOW OUR FRIEND TO SHOWER AND GET DRESSED IN YESTERDAY’S CLOTHES SO THAT SHE CAN COMMENCE WHAT I HAVE HEARD HUMANS CALL THE ‘WALK OF SHAME’.”

Ouch…? “That term doesn’t really apply here, Pap,” you inform him.

“IT DOESN’T???”

“Normally it’s just after a, um.” You look to Sans, who seems willing to let you explain this. “After a one-night stand.” 

“AND SINCE THIS IS A MOSTLY PRE-ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP, IT’S NOT A ONE-NIGHT STAND! OKAY, GOOD, I WAS TRYING MY HARDEST TO THINK OF WAYS TO HELP YOU NOT FEEL ASHAMED OF YOURSELF.” You think he’s trying to comfort you. 

“pap, i think that’s enough,” Sans says.

“VERY WELL. HUMAN.” Papyrus approaches the edge of the bed and pushes Sans off of you, who makes a noise not unlike one that Neo makes when you push him off of the kitchen counters. The taller skeleton strips the blanket away from you and scoops you up in his arms. You flail a little, trying to cover yourself as he takes you out of the room and towards their bathroom.

“Papyrus oh my god no put me down this isn’t--”

“ISN’T WHAT?” he interrupts. You look up at him as he sets you gingerly on your feet and pulls a towel from a cabinet for you. “RELAX, HUMAN, I AM NOT ATTRACTED TO YOUR FORM IN THE SLIGHTEST.” 

You squint. Somehow you’re a little hurt by that.

“DO NOT FRET! YOU ARE JUST A LITTLE… NON-METALLIC FOR MY TASTE. NYEH HEH!” With that, he gives you a doofy grin and leaves you alone to shower. 

That reminds you to continue your search for what’s going on between Mettaton and Papyrus. The curiosity is killing you.

Somehow, that particular information hunt got shoved deep deep down, along with some other choice things that you desperately try not to think about as you turn on the shower and step inside to wash the sticky away. The water is almost too hot, but it serves as a good distraction, and you focus on getting clean. You’ve got flowers to deal with, bouquets to make, a skeleton to talk to. About feelings and junk. Probably. You’re not sure how that conversation is going to go, but any conversation is better than no conversation.

You finish up relatively quickly and wrap yourself up in the towel. Leaving the room, you scurry back into Sans’ room, which, now that the light of day has been cast on it, it’s abysmal. You scrunch up your nose and get to work walking through the mostly cleared path to the bed, picking up your articles of clothing from last night on the way. 

Sans is still in bed, but when you look at the foot of it, your work uniform is laid out neatly, along with fresh undergarments and everything else you’d need. You smile to yourself.

“Did you go to Tori’s and get these for me?” you ask, already knowing the answer. His burrito-like form expands and contracts slowly, as if he’s sighing.

“yeah.” 

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“yeah.” 

“...You okay?”

He grumbles something. You sit on the edge of the bed and pat what you think is maybe probably his shoulder. You can’t really tell.

“Repeat that?”

“my little bro saw you naked.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Sans, it’s… not a huge deal. He said it didn’t bother him, so, you know, no harm no foul?”

“but it bothers  _ me _ .”

“What’s he going to do? Pester you about human mating tactics?” You can see a dark blush creeping over his face. He’s embarrassed. You lean a little closer to him, ready to tease him more. “Think he’ll ask for a demonstration?”

He moves to look at you a lot quicker than you’d think he ever would, his eyelights small yet bright. “don’t even joke about that!” he protests.

“You say that like I’d give him one!” 

“you’re kind of a giant jerk sometimes, you know that?” he grumbles, sockets narrowing. 

“You kind of are too sometimes,” you retort playfully. 

He can’t stop the grin that spreads over his face as he smacks you lightly with a pillow. He looks at you fondly, his jaw starting to work like there’s something he wants to say, but he stops. 

“leavin’ soon?” he asks.

“Gonna have to,” you say, standing once more and letting your towel drop so that you can put on your clothing. 

“ok.”

You can feel him burning holes in your back as you step into your slacks. You look around for deodorant and your toothbrush, hoping that maybe he had grabbed those, too, but to no avail. You see nothing of the sort. Nothing hygenic about this room at all.

“whatcha lookin’ for?”

You tell him.

He’s gone and back in a flash, which you’re only alerted to by the pops of displaced air and the prickles of magic. When you look back, he’s still laying on his side, eyes fixed on you, but the objects you had requested are laying neatly beside him.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. 

He meets you with silence, just watching you as you finish dressing by tucking your shirt into your pants. You sit on the edge of the bed to pull on your socks.

“uh, quick question,” he says. You hum to tell him to continue. “they haven’t been, uh, worse, have they? the nightmares?”

You think for a moment. “Not really,” you say. “He’s angry, he threatens, but he still seems more or less… reasonable? I guess as reasonable as someone like that can be.” 

It’s his turn to hum, looking both relieved and a little bit disappointed. You don’t blame him on the latter; you’re trying to use Gaster’s actions in the dreams you and Papyrus have to try to figure out what Gaster is doing, when he’ll come back, and how strong he could potentially be. The sooner you can find something out, the better, you think. 

“let me take you to work?” he asks. You look at the clock. It’s probably a little bit too late for him to take you to Toriel’s and for you to make it on time driving.

“Are you committing to picking me up as well?” you ask. 

“it’s taken care of.”

“Like you’ve already planned today out?”

“uh.” You’re smacked with the pillow again.

“Alright, okay, it’s probably a good idea for you to take me,” you concede. 

“i did last night,” he says teasingly, punctuated with a wink.

It’s his turn to get smacked by the pillow.

  
  
  


Your shifts at the flower shop are always pretty enjoyable, mostly because you get to hear a lot of stories that apparently require flowers. Apologies, sucking up to a boss, anniversaries, first dates, all kinds of things that people want bouquets and arrangements for. You’re starting to have a great respect for the colorful plants.

You step out of the shop, happy that the evening air is much cooler than it was in the afternoon. You look around, searching for Sans, who usually would lurk by a lamppost or the entrance to an alleyway, but you’re met with nothing but a fairly large crowd of people. If you get on your toes, you can clearly see everyone’s favorite sexy robot at the center of it all.

“Darling!” he calls, each step he takes towards you parting the sea of fans before him. Everyone’s looking at you.

“Hey,” you respond.

“Come on, my dear, there is so much to do and so little time!” He wraps an arm around your shoulders, tugging you towards the vehicle. 

“W-wait, hold up, I’m waiting for Sans. And he’s gonna be pissed if he gets here and I’m not here,” you try. 

“Oh, honey. Sans said it was taken care of, but not by  _ whom _ , did he not?” His grin is dangerous. “He’s not coming.”

“But I thought-- Don’t you guys, like, hate each other?” You’re already shoved in the limousine that had brought him here. You’re pretty sure it’s the same one from the theatre event a while back.

“I despise him,” he says shortly. “But I’ll do favors for him because I love  _ you _ .” He sighs. “And his comedy routines do bring a lot of people to my establishments.”

“Aw,” is all you can really say. 

For the rest of the ride, you and Mettaton spend time catching up. He tells you all about his new television endeavors, the promise of another movie coming out soon, as well as work with a record label to further his musical career. He’s sure to ask about your life, but there’s not much for you to say aside from “I work with flowers” and “no, the nightmares aren’t worse”. You feel bad that you only see him when it has to do with the Gaster Situation™. 

Something does come to mind, though. You think for a moment on how to word it, then,

“So, what’s going on with you and Papyrus?”

Mettaton freezes, not unlike a computer.

“Wh-whatever do you mean?” His voice is filled with nervous laughter. And the whirring of processors. “Papyrus and I… We, uh. I have no idea what you mean, my dear.”

“Oh, okay,” you say, definitely not taking that for an answer. “I was just wondering because he mentioned something to me in passing about enjoying the company of certain metallic monsters over others when deciding on his attractions, so I thought--”

You hands are snapped up by Mettaton’s in seconds, his face serious and eyes wide.

“He said that? He actually said that?”

“Yeah, this morning.”

His expression lights up. 

“That’s wonderful! I thought that… I wasn’t sure if he… um.” 

You implore him to go on with your expression.

“Oh look! We’re here!” he exclaims much too loudly. “Fantastic! Come love, I must get you ready.”

“For?”

He doesn’t answer you, but leads you into a building that you recognize as one of his hotels. He leads you to an unlocked room, where he proceeds to work his Mettaton Magic™. You beg for nothing too extravagant, no crazy detailed makeup (or none at all would be perfectly a-okay too), no heels. Surprisingly, he complies. You make it out with a nice-looking outfit, shoes that are comfortable, exactly what you wanted. Mettaton stands behind you as you admire yourself in the mirror, going on about the intricacies of simple beauty.

“I really like this,” you tell him. 

His smirk is no longer smug; he adopts a much softer expression. 

He then takes you through the hotel lobby and into a dimly lit restaurant area. It’s not as flashy as you’d expect from Mettaton, but it’s extraordinary as it is. Candles on every table, ferns and other plants abound. Towards the back, you can see a very sweaty skeleton. 

Your heart stutters, and you realize that you’re extremely nervous. You don’t really know what’s going on. He brought you here via Mettaton, offering less than zero detail about the situation, and you’re starting to get the jitters over that.

“Go on,” Mettaton whispers, pushing you towards him. 

Sans in angled in such a way that he can’t see you approaching him, so when you reach the chair across from him, he jumps, eyelights shrunken as he looks up at you. He stares almost blankly as you sit and scoot yourself towards the table.

“hey,” he manages.

“Hey,” you reply. “Didn’t expect the MTT Brand™ Luxury Treatment.” You say it in a joking tone, as if you totally one hundred percent yes did expect it (you did not expect it). 

“uh. heh.” He looks slightly embarrassed. “didn’t expect him to go as far as dressin’ you.”

“He can’t help it, it’s in his programming.”

He grins at that.

You fiddle with the silverware in front of you as a somehow very nondescript monster waiter comes by to drop off a glass of wine for each of you.

“so, uh, i promised you a conversation, and i keep puttin’ it off,” he starts. 

Oh, that’s what this is about. 

“Might as well talk about it while we’re alone,” you agree.

He nods. A slightly awkward silence.

“i’m scared of commitment,” he says.

Wow, blunt, but the way he said it tells you that he was just trying to force the words out to get it over with.

“Why?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

He thinks for a long moment. 

“the life of a monster,” he starts, very slowly. “no, mine in particular. it’s not always… stable. things shift. change. we’re forced to start from the very beginning sometimes.”

Something tells you that there’s a much deeper meaning to his words than what you’re hearing.

“s’why i don’t like making promises,” he goes on. “whether or not i keep them never matters in the end. people change. forget. move on.”

“Sans,” you say, voice almost a whisper. This is kind of heartbreaking.

"i do have more-than-friend feelings for you," he says, much quieter, "but that scares me. and with all the shit going on with gaster right now, i'm scared of you bein' too close to me. you're already in danger."

At the mention of him having some kind of feelings for you, you find yourself blushing, even though you pretty much knew by now.

"so then what do we do?" he asks. He looks up at you, and he looks worried. About what exactly, you're not too sure, but you feel like that doesn't really matter.

"We wait," you say after another short moment of thought. He looks bewildered. "I mean, you're right. If you're not ready to try a relationship, then we don't have to put that label on it. Plus with the Gaster shit, trying to build a good relationship would probably be too hard. We're both too stressed out. We can just keep going with what we've got now, do what's comfortable, and if we want to change what we're calling it in the future once things have settled down, then we can."

He looks in awe. Maybe he didn't expect you to be so rational. Did he do some kind of research that told him you'd react to his fear of committing in a much worse way. But you mean what you said, and you're not going to back down on that. 

Then he smiles, and takes your hand on top of the table, and you can't help but smile back. He's relaxed, so are you, and for right now, this is fine. This is perfect. 

And you're happy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tfw you start a new semester and a new job that isnt sucky this time at the same time and find yourself with zero time to do anything.  
> On the bright side, all I've been wanting to do is write, so that works out for you guys.  
> Also i was told that Trademark Jokes™ are funny and appreciated so im not holding back anymore


	58. The Stare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It's because you were yelling about magic dicks."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so unmotivated lately lol. But I'm trying.

“Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

You look up from your food and across the table at Kendra. You had met up with her, Nolan, and Spencer for lunch, and inevitably divulged most of the details of your conversation with Sans the other day. You, of course, left out the part about Gaster and his bullshit playing a big part in why now isn’t the time for a relationship, but even without that bit, it all still sounds like it makes perfect sense.

“Yeah,” you tell her. “I mean, I was the one who said we should wait.”

“I mean,” Nolan says, “if you say so. But I think there's some serious sexual tension between you two that’s--”

 “Been resolved,” you cut off, trying to stop an embarrassing conversation of speculation from taking place.

 There’s silence for a moment.

 “You _what_?” Spencer sputters.

 “Holy shit,” Kendra breathes.

 “Tell me _everything_!” Nolan nearly shouts. He looks every bit as excited as a small child in an amusement park. “Like, how? Magic dick? Finger boning? We need to know the logistics!”

 “Not so loud,” you hiss. That doesn't stop him from bouncing in his seat.

 “Okay okay, fine, but. _How_?”

 “You’re way too excited about this,” Kendra chastises him.

 “Let’s just chalk it up to magic?” Spencer suggests. His face is burning; he’s probably more embarrassed by this talk than you are. So cute.

 “Yeah, please,” you agree. “That’s pretty much the whole explanation.”

 “Boring,” Nolan says with a dramatic yawn. “I need details. How else am I going to spray paint an entire mural in the alleys of downtown Ebott as tribute to your interspecies sexual endeavors?”

 Spencer smacks his arm. That’s enough for Nolan to snicker and stop talking.

 “I’m happy you two have come to a conclusion that works for both of you right now,” Kendra says with a smile in your direction.

 “Yeah, I am too,” Spencer agrees. “This way you two know what you can expect from each other.”

 “Something like that,” you say.

 The conversation among your friend disperses into another topic, and you look around the table, happy that the people you call your friends are as understanding and kind as they are. You’ve gotten really lucky with who you’ve surrounded yourself with. You’re grateful for them.

 You’re grateful.

 You’re snapped out of your thoughts by Nolan’s shout of “Is there a reason you’re staring? Fuck off!”

 “It’s because you were yelling about magic dicks,” you tell him.

 “If my mother taught me one goddamn thing, it’s that staring is rude!” His words are still pointed at a table near where the four of you are sitting, where there’s a couple, well, staring at your table quite rudely.

 “Nolan, you’ll get us kicked out,” Kendra hisses.

 “S-sorry!” one of the two members of the table squeaks, turning back to their food.

 “Damn fucking straight,” Nolan mumbles.

“Nolan, the rudest man alive, always a stickler for proper manners,” Spencer teases.

 “At least I don’t stare at people without asking permission first,” he grunts.

 Again, you’re grateful. Your friends always stick up for each other and what they think is right, even if they run the risk of getting kicked out of a restaurant.

  
  
  


When you get back to Toriel’s, Sans is there, looking a bit lost in thought. He’s sitting at the kitchen table, scrolling through something on his phone, concentrating pretty hard. Flowey is sitting happily in a sunbeam on the table - or, at least as happy as Flowey can look.

 “Hey, you,” you say, hanging your bag on the back of one of the chairs and sitting down next to him.

 He locks his phone and sets it on the table, looking over at you. “hey.”

 “You good?”

 “yeah, just thinkin’. have you been to talk to someone yet? about all the shit that’s happened?”

 You shake your head. You should have found a therapist a long time ago, but burying your memories beneath a sea of denial and focusing on the issues at hand has been working pretty well for you so far. At least, except for when you have nightmares or breakdowns or terrible anxiety seemingly out of nowhere.

 “you need to,” Sans tells you. “you’ve waited way too long already.”

 “I’ll have to look, try to find someone my insurance will cover--”

 Your laptop magically appears in front of you. You hadn’t even felt him teleport. Damn him and his sneaky void manipulating teleportation bullshit.

 “...Thanks,” you say, more surprised than anything. You open the machine and boot it up, giving it a moment to load all of your startup stuff before getting onto the internet to start your search.

 Sans stays by your side the entire time you look. It takes a lot longer than you’d like. He makes a few suggestions on how to alter your search to narrow it down, and, surprisingly, you find that a lot of the counseling options in your care network are monsters. That alone makes you happy about how far monsters and humans have come as far as working together.

 You’re slightly less impressed when you read further and discover that a lot of the human therapists refuse monster clients. You cross quite a few options off of your potential confidant list.

 You finally have a short list of phone numbers to call, both human and monster, and get to work going down the list. Sans gives you some privacy for that part, taking his phone and disappearing for a few minutes, and seems to miraculously know when you’re done. You’ve got a couple of appointments set up to feel these people out, and you’re a little bit excited.

 Sans seems very pleased with you, and that’s always a plus.

 “So,” you try once the two of you are nestled comfortably on the sofa, “what were you thinking so hard about when I got home? I get the feeling it wasn’t just my need for therapy.”

 He looks up from his phone screen and shakes his head. “was thinkin’ about my dad, and what the hell’s goin’ on with that bullshit.”

 “Nothing’s changed,” you tell him. “What about the void? Does it feel any different to you? Would that make any difference?”

 "it’s still loose,” he says. “ripped up. too easy to ‘port. nothin’s changed on that, either.”

 “Toriel’s been getting antsy again,” you point out.

 “everyone has.”

 “True.” You know you’ve been pretty at ease, and so has Papyrus, but the two of you are the only ones who know for sure what Gaster has been saying, how he’s been doing as far as gathering his strength.

 Something about you two being the only ones who know makes a rush of unease settle in your gut.

 “we need to make a move,” Sans says, more to himself than anyone else, you think.

 “We don’t know where he is. You said we have to wait for him to come to us.”

 “we do,” he says, “and it’s so goddamn frustrating.”

“I know, Sans,” you say quietly. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Self care is important, kids. Take care of yourselves. Talk to someone if you need to. Don't be Reader and bottle shit up. Don't be afraid to seek help.


	59. Vultures

You've been going to therapy for a few weeks now.

It's helpful. Your therapist is a monster with tentacles on her face not unlike Cthulhu, but she's nice, and extremely understanding. Two sessions a week for the first month, and then you'll discuss how often you need to be there after that based on your progress. Uncovering everything that you've worked so hard to bury is rough, and you've been extra anxious lately, but you're learning to cope. Everyone, from your friends to your housemates to your boss, has been extremely understanding and supportive of the process. You couldn't a for a better experience with this. 

There have been some less than savory developments, though. Since you had lunch with Nolan, Spencer, and Kendra, you've been much more aware of the amounts of eyes burning holes in you. At first, you just thought it was your recently climbing anxiety translating into mild paranoia, but that theory was completely shattered when people on the street started saying things to you in the space between your car and wherever you're headed to or coming back from. It started out innocently enough, with questions or how you met Mettaton and if you're really friends with him. That itself is fine. Normal if you're friends with a celebrity. But it got worse.

Hard bumps with shoulders are hard to pass off as accidental with how frequently they happen, especially in a city like Ebott.

You've been called a monster fucker before, but never to your face (and even if it's technically true now, it still hurts to hear with venom behind it). 

The glares. The stares.

It's making you paranoid, just a little.

What if something happens? What if someone tries to--

"Hey, punk, you okay?"

Undyne's uncharacteristically gentle tone snaps you out of your thoughts. You look up at her worried expression, backlit by the afternoon sun. She's poised with her hands on her hips, brows raised. Papyrus stands slightly behind her, wringing his hands.

"Uh. Yeah. Lost in thought," you get out, words rushed and jumbled. You focus on the grass. It's warm in the backyard.

"You're like that a lot lately," she sighs. "Well, just remember that we're here if you ever need to talk."

"ABOUT ANYTHING," Papyrus adds.

You swallow thickly. You should really bring up being approached on the street, but you're also worried that Undyne might react badly take matters into her own hands. With violence.

"There's something," she observes.

Undyne may be brash and loud, but she's not stupid. Captain of the Royal Guard for a good reason. She's excellent at reading people.

"Yeah, there is," you admit. 

Your companions both sit down in the grass, and you follow suit. The grass pokes into your exposed legs. It's too hot to not wear shorts.

"I've been approached on the street by total strangers a lot lately."

"WELL, YOU ARE OBVIOUSLY BEING RECOGNIZED FOR ALL OF YOUR HARD WORK IMPROVING MONSTER-HUMAN RELATIONS," Papyrus justifies. So pure.

"Go on," Undyne says.

"It started out just as questions about Mettaton, since he and I have been seen in public together a lot. But now it's totally different. Like. Monster fucker and a lot of other angry sounding stuff. I got called a murderer once. Not sure where that came from but it's obviously gonna bother me."

Undyne nods slowly, as if digesting your words. Papyrus looks more angry than anything. 

"Could it be Gaster?" she asks. "Influencing people to go after you?"

"It's possible," you say. "But something this large scale would change something in the nightmares. Besides, Gaster is too conceited to not brash about having enough power to turn a whole town against me." You think for a moment. "And he'd try to target Pap, too. He's after both of us."

"NOTHING HAS CHANGED FOR ME," Papyrus says. "I DO NOT THINK IT IS GASTER."

"I won't eliminate it from the realm of possibility," Undyne says. "From what Sans says, Gaster ain't stupid. He could be behind it and purposely not making it seem like he has that kind of power in your nightmares."

"Maybe the nightmares aren't as reliable of a measure as we'd hoped."

"THEY HAVE BEEN RATHER STAGNANT."

"We'll have to talk to Sans about that," you say.

"But let's deal with the issue at hand first," Undyne says. "I'll do some digging. Maybe do some on your own too? And Papyrus, tell us if anything changes for you."

"I WILL!" 

At least there's a plan of action. 

 

 

 

Against your better judgement, you take Undyne's advice and do a little searching on your own. A Google search of your name should be the best start, right? In milliseconds, hundreds of thousands of results come up. Well, you can't be the only person in this world with you're specific name, can you?

Social media results come up first. Scroll down a bit. An article published this morning in Ebott catches your eye. Open in a new tab.

"...monster apologist, possible relation to the explosion at the base of Mt. Ebott some time ago..."

Click a related article.

"...aided in the murder of her father, an anti-monster lawyer, as well as hundreds of others..."

Click.

"...principal of Ebott Elementary, where she had worked until earlier this year, has been missing for..."

Comments.

"No way she's not related."

"Dumbass monster lover."

"get rekt lol"

"SJW gone way wrong if I ever saw one."

"How has she not been arrested yet?"

You slam your laptop shut.

Your photos were all over those pages. There's no mistaking it. It was you.

You can only think of one person who has the potential to fix this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one, but I feel like short more often isn't such a bad thing


	60. Scavengers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ll push to get the articles taken down. Hell, I’ll become your public advocate if you want. Didn’t I offer to help you into the spotlight, my dear?”
> 
> “I’m involved in enough scandals,” you joke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important announcement in the end notes ok kids thanks

This apartment is much more lavish than you thought an apartment could be.

White walls, white furniture, a large wine cooler with what you think might be rare vintages on display, various pictures of the homeowner. Lots of pictures of the homeowner. So many pictures. You honestly can’t believe that someone could enjoy looking at their own face this much. 

You don’t have it in you to complain as they agreed to see you on such short notice - they’re always busy, you know, and rarely have a moment alone. Besides, the apartment is nice, the couch you’re planted on rivals the comfort factor of Toriel’s (which is the comfiest couch on the face of the planet, thank you very much), and the glass of wine in your hand is much needed. It’s helping to steady your nerves a bit. Just don’t worry too much about accidentally spilling it all over the white furniture. 

The phone conversation that led you here was short, clipped on your end and concerned on the other. You haven’t said anything to anyone else about where you’ve gone or what you’ve found out. You’ll have to report back to Undyne, of course, but you’d rather wait until this conversation is over and there’s a chance of at least some of this journalistic nonsense being resolved. This is more stress than you need to be dealing with. Being accused of being involved with your father’s death? Well, you  _ were _ , technically, but indirectly, and your therapist has helped you more or less come to terms that it isn’t your fault that it happened; it may have happened regardless since the universe knows what needs to happen and normal inhabitants have no way of knowing that information. Putting your trust in the universe has been oddly comforting. 

But still. This is all pretty infuriating, once you get past the initial shock and pain of the contents of the articles and the comments accompanying them. All of the things that you and your friends are being blamed for are mostly out of your control - Froggit Face blowing up the entire cult that he got together when monsters resurfaced and subsequently being disintegrated by Gaster, whom he released from the void. Not entirely your fault. Not the fault of your friends. But of course, no one else really knows that, nor do they have any reason to believe it. They naturally need something or someone to blame, and the most prominent members of the monster community and their human friend are the most available and believable targets. This is doing nothing to help monster-human relations along and you can’t help but feel that things might backtrack. You really hope that nothing backtracks. 

You swirl the wine in your glass, the deep red clinging momentarily to the sides of the container before settling back in the bottom. It’s sweet, yet somehow a little bitter. Not dry. Much more calming than any other wine you’ve ever tried. You’ll have to ask again what it is - you were told, but in a rushed, overly-detailed way that you ended up having to tune out halfway through for your own sanity. That can wait until business is taken care of. 

“I am so sorry about that wait. Conference calls are such a pain in the ass.”

Speaking of.

Your host joins you on the couch, holding a glass of wine of their own, though you’re not entirely sure they can consume it. Monster mechanics are weird. 

“It’s alright,” you say. “We all have things to deal with.”

A laugh. “You’re so serious today, my dear. Is what happened really that bad?” 

You nod. “I appreciate you seeing me,” you say.

“Anything for you,” the familiar purr sounds, and Mettaton flashes you one of his winning smiles. 

“Can we… start?” you ask, gesturing to where your laptop sits open on the coffee table. He nods, and you pick it up, handing it to him. “Just go through the tabs i have open.” 

It takes him a moment, but a much shorter time than you expected. Most likely a perk of being a robot. Makes him all the more efficient. Once he’s done, he shuts your laptop gently and sets it back on the coffee table. He leans back in his seat and sighs heavily. 

“What made you go looking for this garbage?” he asks. He sounds livid, but most definitely not at you.

“I was getting a lot of stares on the streets. A lot of people were stopping me and saying things,” you explain. “At first just about you, but then it turned into asking me how it feels to be a murderer and calling me a lot of very… unsavory names.”

“Ghastly,” he says. “Well, I will see what I can do about the articles. I can most likely get them taken down, call it a violation of the agreements that most publishers have about using my photos. I am sure that I can come up with creative ways to exploit what my lawyers wrote to do what I want. Journalists are scavengers, they’ll do whatever they can to get a good story. There is no doubt that there may actually be some violations of policy littered in there somewhere.” You’re given another smile, this one devious. “I’ll push to get the articles taken down. Hell, I’ll become your public advocate if you want. Didn’t I offer to help you into the spotlight, my dear?”

“I’m involved in enough scandals,” you joke. 

“Very true.” He looks off into the middle distance for a moment before snapping his attention back to you. “Does Sans know anything about this?”

“Not yet,” you say.

“You need to tell him, but let him know that I have everything under control, because I will most certainly have everything under control.” A wink. 

“I’ll make sure he knows,” you say. “I have to talk to Undyne, too.”

“Undyne knows?”

“Yeah, she’s the one who suggested I do some digging online to see if I could find why people were being dicks to me,” you tell him. “She said she was going to do some snooping around the police station and see if my name turns up anywhere.”

“Good. She is extremely trustworthy,” he commends. 

“Um. So. I think that’s it,” you say slowly. “Thanks again. For seeing me.”

“Of course,” he says. “Are you sure that you don’t want to lay low here for a while? Catch up, enjoy some more wine?” He seems hopeful, and you can’t really say no to him.

So you decide to stay for a while.

  
  


It turns out that Mettaton is a lot of fun to hang out with in private. He’s still over the top and dramatic, but not nearly as much as in public, and he’s much more relatable than you would have expected from the celebrity. He talks a lot about his cousin, whom he seems to love dearly. They worked on a snail farm together, and while he always dreamed of something bigger, of being a celebrity, he never forgets the time he spent there with his family and he’s forever grateful to everything he learned being a snail farmer. His cousin is a pretty famous DJ now, though Mettaton says that he doesn’t have the same flair for being social and in public. A lot of his stuff is just done at home and posted on the internet. Not that you really blame him. The outside world can be pretty scary. 

You talk to him about Nolan and Kendra, which leads into a discussion about Spencer, who Mettaton seems to absolutely adore. Sometimes you forget that Spencer makes his living doing freelance photography at a lot of Mettaton’s events. A good living, you’re sure. But the two of you talk for a long time. So long that you don’t notice yourself getting hungry, and you notice your phone ringing almost too late. You answer it and quickly scurry into the other room. 

“Hello?” You didn’t even get a chance to look at who was calling.

_ “where are you?” _

Oh. Sans. “I’m, uh, with Mettaton. Is everything okay?”

He lets out a heavy sigh, the kind that sounds almost staticky over the phone.  _ “paps told me that shit was going down for you. got worried.” _

“I appreciate you being worried, but I’m okay right now,” you assure him. “I’ll be home probably in a little while.”

_ “would feel better if you came back now.” _ He sounds a bit exasperated. 

“Sans, I’m fine--”

_ “are you out in public or at his apartment?” _

“Apartment. I’ll be home when I’m done here.”

“come on.” 

You notice that your phone hangs up on its own, signalling that he hung up first, and he’s standing right in front of you. The poor guy. He looks so frazzled, so freaked out. Maybe it’s best if you do go back with him.

“I smell void,” Mettaton calls as he enters the room. He stops in the doorway to the kitchen, where you had hidden yourself. “Oh. Welcome to my humble home, Sans. I do not recall inviting you.”

“just taking back what’s mine,” Sans grumbles.

“Hey, you two,” you scold. “Be nice. Sans is just worried and wants me home. If I were him, I’d be worried, too. It’s getting late.”

“I thought he didn’t know what was going on?”

“Papyrus told him,” you explain.

“I see.” Mettaton busies himself inspecting his metal nails. “Well, go on ahead, my dear. I’ll make sure to do what we discussed. I’ll make calls starting right now, just for you.”

“Thank you, Mettaton,” you say. “I really appreciate it more than you know.”

He smiles, and you take Sans’ hand when it’s held out to you. The boys don’t say goodbye to each other. Before you know it, you’re back at Toriel’s, landing on your bed, and you can’t pry Sans off of you even if you wanted to.

You’ll eat later. Holding onto him in the middle of your bed seems like the best course of action right now. He needs it, and frankly, so do you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course it was Mettaton who did you think it would be. MTT is my actual favorite UT character (I'm 100% serious).  
>  **Important Announcement Below:**  
>  I'm participating in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) this year, and that starts November 1st. I'm finally going to write the first book of the series I've been planning for 8 years!! So, because of that, I won't have a ton of time to write fanfic. So, for the rest of this month, I'll be trying (key word: _trying_ ) to write some chapters to post throughout the month of November so that I'm not keeping you guys waiting, but I can't promise anything. I'm in the midst of midterms right now, and the workload only increases from here on out, plus work, but I'll be devoting most of my freetime to making sure there's content for you cool peeps.   
> **TL;DR:** I'm writing a novel next month, so I'll try to get chapters out in November but I can't make any promises my dudes


	61. Caffeine Slave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tick, tick, tick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> waddup boys its ya demon (1000000 sparkle emojis)  
> ill explain myself in the end notes lmao

You really don’t want to get out of bed.

You work in about an hour, and even though it doesn’t take you too long to get there, you  _ really _ don’t want to go anywhere. You have Sans at your side (he won’t get out of bed until you do) and Neo curled in the small space between your legs and his on top of the blankets. You’re so comfortable. There’s no need to go anywhere else.

Especially with how terrifying things have been lately.

You couldn’t stop yourself from scrolling through more of those comments on your phone last night, the brightness on your screen turned down as much as it could be as to not wake Sans, who fell asleep much sooner than you did, clinging to you as he took on the role of the big spoon. The things people are saying about you and your friends - no, your  _ family _ \- have been so much worse, and it’s barely been twenty-four hours. You know Mettaton will do what he said he would, and that he’s probably already started, but you’re still worried about it.

You really don’t want to be stopped on the street anymore.

You know that if you bring up that concern, Sans will just offer to teleport you wherever you need to go, but that’s something else you don’t want him to do. Besides, it isn’t safe. Not with Gaster doing his weird void shit. Thinking about it makes you shudder. You wouldn’t want anything to happen to Sans because he’s hopping through the void all the time again, even if it is a bit easier on him now that the void has “loosened up” or however he described it.

You can face the people on the street. It’s the least you can do.

Sans shifts against you, his movement enough to make Neo look up and rumble at the intrusion. He blinks open at you, his eye sockets blank for a moment as he tries to focus on being awake. 

“you’re up,” he comments.

“Ah, yeah,” you reply.

He lets a comfortable silence hang between the two of you for a long moment, long enough that you think he may have fallen back asleep with his eyes open.

“you, uh, gotta do anythin’ today?”

“I have to be at work in 45 minutes,” you say.

“want me to take you?” he asks after another pause.

You shake your head the best you can while lying down. “I can get there on time.” 

“should get going then,” he murmurs. 

You hum, pulling your torso away from his hold and kicking the covers off of yourself. You climb over him to get to your dresser, pulling out undergarments before pulling your uniform from your closet. You disregard the fact that he’s in the room as you get yourself dressed, more or less ready for the day. You pick up your bag from where it was discarded on the floor the night before and sling it over your shoulder, looking back at him as you approach the door.

“you’re sure you don’t want me to take you?”

“I’m sure, Sans,” you say, smiling at him and opening the door. 

You step out, not entirely prepared for the day, but it's better than sitting at home all day doing nothing.

  
  
  
  


You made the mistake of foregoing your coffee this morning, seeing as how you didn't really have much time to stop. Traffic majorly sucked on the way to work, and you're regretting not just letting Sans bring you over like he had offered. 

That leads you to now, heading out of the flower shop with your apron over your arm and your keys dangling off of your finger. You walk down the wide alley beside the building that leads to the little parking lot on the other side. You get in your car, put the key in the ignition, and take a second to rest your head against the steering wheel. 

It was a long day, mainly just because you didn't caffeinate. And you're a real slave to caffeine. 

You give yourself a couple of minutes to wallow, then sit up straight and get to work heading home. After a couple of minutes of driving, you find yourself going past that coffee shop you went to with Kendra. 

Coffee sounds really good. You need it. 

You find a place to park. 

The inside of the shop is just as nice as you remember it being. You order something to go, something that will hopefully help alleviate the migraine that's been growing in the back of your head over the last few days, and wait patiently for it to be made. 

You swear you can feel someone looking at you. 

Mettaton would tell you to pay it no mind, so you try to ignore the feeling. 

Though seconds start to drag on, making a moment feel like hours as those eyes burn holes in your back. 

You try to focus on anything else - the scent of ground coffee and cinnamon, the sounds of cups and platters clinking together, clattering into sinks. The sound of a child apologizing for spilling something, and their parent assuring them that accidents happen with a very tired voice. Whispers. Hushed conversations. Inflections on words that you can’t make out but you can just tell, you can  _ feel it _ , they’re directed at you and they’re unsavory, the very words you’ve been trying to avoid.

The tick, tick, tick of the clock on the wall, the same ticking that you’ve heard before, in your dreams, whenever you close your eyes, whenever you see a familiar spot of shadow right up in that corner where the wall meets the ceiling and you’re sure, that’s him, he’s here,  _ he’s here _ \--

Your name is called, and you snap back to your surroundings. The barista is looking at you with a concerned expression on their face, and you offer your best smile as you take your cup of coffee from them.

“Are you… okay?” they ask quietly, hesitantly.

“Ah… Yes,” you reply. “Thank you. I’m sorry, it’s just been a long day.”

They smile at you, a smile as hesitant as their previous question, and they nod, telling you that they understand the feeling. They tell you to get some rest and to have a good remainder of your evening, and you wish the same for them.

You’ve never walked out of a coffee shop faster. 

The entire time you’re driving home, you can’t shake the feeling of eyes watching you, the unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Even back at home, you can’t get rid of it. Even sitting with Sans, you can’t get rid of it. You continue to feel unsafe, unsettled, not okay.

  
  
  


And you continue to hear that ticking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey so im not dead, just lazy and unmotivated and super into a different fandom rn lol  
> sorry for the short chapter tho. like i said, unmotivated but slowly getting inspiration back for this one. reader's in for a wild ride lmao. i just can't guarantee any kind of update schedule because y'all know as well as i do that if i set one i will absolutely not follow it at all ever  
> rejoice, my children. mother is back to feed you scraps once more  
> [Tumblr](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com)


	62. Q&A

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Okay I fixed the formatting finally whew 
> 
> Fanfiction commissions are open! There's more information on my [Tumblr!](http://meekomyachi.tumblr.com/commission-info)
> 
>  

It’s a little before 6 AM when you hear urgent knocking on your bedroom door. You groan, looking at the clock, trying to see over Sans with the way he’s draped over you. You poke at his ribs, trying to get him to move so that you can go answer the door. Toriel calls your name from the other side of it, knocking rapidly, her voice bearing just as much importance. 

“Sans, move, Tori needs me,” you urge.

He grumbles something about “soft” and “no” before he finally scoots away, sitting up and actually getting out of bed. You wiggle your legs away from where Neo sleeps between them on top of the covers and get up as well, pulling down the shorts you slept in as you walk over to the door. You open it, and Toriel’s expression wakes you up more than coffee ever could.

“What’s going on?” you ask. You can feel Sans standing near you, his arm starting to wrap around your waist as his chin rests on your shoulder. 

“The human government,” she whispers frantically. “They say that we are prime suspects in the death of  _ you know who _ and would like to take us in for questioning.”

“Us?” you echo.

“All of us,” she confirms, her gaze flicking to Sans. 

The skeleton backs off of you and looks at you, his eye sockets devoid of all light. 

“paps,” he says, and you nod. 

“Go with him,” you say, and he’s gone with barely any displacement in the air.

Toriel motions for you to follow her, and you do, heading down the stairs with your arms crossed over your chest. You hope that they somehow feel bad for waking you up - you know that you look a mess right now. In the dining area stand two men in uniform, both of them silent. Near them are Flowey, Frisk, and Asgore, all looking to you and Toriel with concerned looks. Even Flowey has decided to hold back on his snarky comments. 

The air is absolutely unsettling. All you can hear is the ticking of the clock on the wall.

“Is this everyone in the residence?” one of the officers asks, and Toriel nods.

“Yes, this is everyone,” she replies. 

“Sorry to wake you,” he says, stepping over to you and holding out a hand for you to shake. You take it. “My name is Detective Barnes, and this is my partner, Noble. We’re part of the team looking into the death of a Mr. Jonathan Davis, and the public has reasonable suspicion that the lot of you may know something about it.” 

“It’s mostly a formality,” Noble chimes in. He’s definitely much younger than Barnes. “We can’t ignore any leads, even if one points to the respectable monster government. We hope you understand.”

There’s something about the way Barnes stares into your eyes that unnerves you. You swallow and nod. 

“No, I understand,” you say after a moment. 

“You’re nervous,” Barnes points out.

“Just trying to process everything. I did just wake up.”

“Why doesn’t everyone get dressed, and then we’ll escort you to the station?” Noble suggests. He seems like the “good cop” in this situation. 

Toriel voices her agreement and thanks him, ushering an oddly alert Frisk up the stairs. You follow, seeing as how Asgore is already dressed and Flowey doesn’t need to do much at all to get ready to go anywhere. You make quick work of getting dressed and passing your own hygiene standards, though there’s no time to shower. If this really is just a formality, then you won’t be there for too long, and you can worry about showering tonight or tomorrow morning. It’s not like you’re super gross or anything.

When you go back down, Toriel and Frisk seem to have just gotten there. You decide to forego bringing your entire bag and just opt for your wallet and phone, being able to comfortably pocket both of them. You’re ready to go, whenever everyone else is.

“We have a couple of cars,” Noble tells all of you. “We were told that monsters could be quite… large. So we did our best to accomodate you.”

“That is much appreciated,” Asgore says warmly. You don’t miss the small smile on his face.

You don’t blame him for feeling a little relieved. For taking the lot of you in for questioning on a murder case, these detectives are being awfully lax so far.

Outside are a couple of black, military-grade vehicles, one of which much larger than the other. It looks like it may have been used to transport large animals in the past, and must have just been repurposed. A quick look in the back shows that, yes, it was a large, animal-carrying vehicle, but behind the driver’s and passenger’s seats, it’s been revamped to have two large, comfortable bench-type seats along the sides. It actually looks like it could fit Asgore and Toriel in there together almost comfortably. The other is what looks like a simple SUV, four doors and the works. You’re all separated out, and you begin the trip down.

The ride is quiet. You have Noble in the car with you, but he’s silent. The radio is never turned on. It takes about twenty minutes to get to the station, and it’s the longest twenty minutes of your life. You can’t help but worry about Sans the entire time, hoping that he got to Papyrus before anyone got to their place. You’re worried about Undyne and especially Alphys - the two of them combined can create all kinds of misunderstanding. You wonder if they’ll even get to Mettaton, and what he might say about it. He wasn’t technically involved, but you’ve been seen with him recently enough, and that might spark enough interest to bring him into it, too. Then it could hit an international scale, and--

Frisk puts a hand on your knee, their other one holding Flowey’s pot steady in the seat beside them. They look up at you with a concerned expression, and you just smile at them. They must have been able to tell that you were freaking out. You sign out to them that you’re okay, and they nod, leaning their head against your shoulder.

You have to be strong, not only for yourself, but for them. For your entire family.

When the cars pull up in front of the station, you find yourself glad that it’s the one so out of the way of downtown. You couldn’t begin to think what it might be like trying to get into the building knowing that all of those people would be able to see you, and would probably crowd around. You hate feeling like you’re being watched, and you feel like that would only be a recipe for disaster right now. All you need is one more thing putting you on edge. 

Toriel and Asgore come out, both looking like they’re as comfortable with the situation as you are, and the group of you are escorted in. Frisk holds fast to your hand. Inside the building, guarded at the waiting area, you see Sans and Papyrus first, followed by Alphys and Undyne. So they  _ did _ get to all of you. You try to offer Sans a small smile, but you can’t force the expression onto your face. He seems to be unable to do the same.

“Well, now that we’re all here,” Barnes starts, “you’ll each be put in a room on your own. Ah, but we do need written permission to speak with the child.”

With that part, he looks to Toriel and Asgore, who both nod.

“There is no reason not to speak with Frisk, so long as you can supply someone who can understand sign language,” Toriel says.

“There’s someone on staff,” he assures her. “If you’ll all follow the guard assigned to you.” 

There really is someone assigned to each person. You find yourself following a very stern looking woman with an extremely long ponytail from the room and into a small interrogation room, exactly how you would have pictured it. There’s not much but a table and three chairs. She asks for your belongings, offers you some paperwork to sign (it all talks about not discussing the interrogation with anyone other than the detectives, so you sign away), and lets you know that you’ll be given back your phone and wallet as soon as you’re out of the room. With that, she leaves, shutting the heavy door behind you.

You’re alone with your thoughts.

They drift back to Sans, hoping that he’s okay, praying to whatever’s out there that he doesn’t decide to try to be funny and say something wrong. Sure, he can teleport out if things start to look ugly, but then he’ll actually be wanted. You really hope he can behave. You also really hope that Alphys doesn’t get too nervous and accidentally say something she doesn’t need to be saying. Of all of you, she and Papyrus seem to be the most likely to accidentally let something slip. You wouldn’t blame them, especially with them knowing the things that they know, but you really hope that they both understand the gravity of the situation at hand. You don’t want any of your friends to have to get taken away, or for monsters to have to go through more hardship than what they already are.

Besides, none of you technically killed Froggit Face. That was all Gaster.

Gaster, the creepy void man that’s apparently the father of two of your best friends but also some kind of genius scientist with the ability to  _ warp through time and space as he pleases, melding into the darkness and coming back as a shadow, a shadow easily missed and easily forgotten, but a shadow nonetheless. One that wraps around your ankles and seeps into the darkest crevices of your mind, one that moves just as methodically, though never as predictibally, as the tick, tick, ticking hands of a clock-- _

Your name is called for a third time, and you finally whip your head around to look at Noble, who looks at you with a slightly confused look on your face.

“You alright there?” he asks, closing the door behind him. You nod.

“Sorry, was spaced out,” you tell him, trying to remember where you mind had just gone. You were thinking about Sans, and Papyrus and Alphys, but after that there’s a blank…

“That’s alright. Can’t blame you for thinking,” he says. “Sorry about that long wait. We had to file away your paperwork before I could get started with you. Are you feeling okay? Need any water or coffee? I know we got you just as you were getting up.”

You consider for a moment, not only his offer, but the prospect of waiting a long time for him to come in. It had only been a few moments, hadn’t it? 

“Water, please,” you tell him. You’re awake enough to forego the coffee, and he just nods, leaving the room for a moment before returning with a styrofoam cup filled with cool water. You take a sip.

“So, what’s say we get started.” He clears his throat, setting down his little notepad and pen. “I hope you don’t mind if I take some notes. Helps me remember later.”

“Go ahead,” you say.

“Okay, so if I may,” he starts. “I understand you worked at Ebott Elementary?”

You nod. “Yeah, I was Frisk’s translator. They’re deaf, so they needed someone who could translate sign language for them,” you tell him.

“You aren’t done with school yet though, right?”

“No. I go back in the fall. Being with Frisk at the elementary school was supposed to be my student teaching.”

“Supposed to be?”

You nod again. “Things didn’t work out so great.”

“Can you explain?”

So you do. You explain to him about how things were great until your apartment got broken into. You talk about how Toriel was kind enough to let you stay with her and Frisk until things got settled, but they never really did. It came to a point where you had to disclose your change of address, and so you did because it was what you were supposed to do. You didn’t realize it would lead to you almost being fired, and subsequently, you quitting. 

“I see,” Noble murmurs, jotting down notes. “How was your relationship with Mr. Davis before the time of that meeting?”

“It was fine,” you tell him. “I mean, the right kind of relationship between employer and employee. He was a good boss, and from what he’d told me, I was a good employee.”

“No animosity? Nothing strange from him? No weird looks or anything?”

“Nope.”

He nods, looking at his notes again. “Did you have any contact with him after the fact?”

“No,” you tell him, and it’s technically true. Right afterwards you hadn’t spoken to him at all. 

“I see,” he says. He jots down a few more notes before he looks back up at you. “Well, that about takes care of my questions. Is there anything you need from me?”

You shake your head. He sighs and stands. 

“Alright, well, that’s out of the way. If you’ll wait out in the lobby for the others, we’ll take you all home.” He holds a hand out to you and you shake it as you stand. “It was a pleasure speaking with you.” 

You fight every urge in your body to make a face at that, instead making yourself smile and thank him for his time as well. He follows you back into the lobby. It looks like you’re the first one done. 

You wait for a long time before others start trickling out. First it’s Frisk, who brings Flowey with them. They sit so close to you that they may as well be on your lap. Or a part of you. Something like that. Alphys and Undyne come out shortly following, then Papyrus a little while later. 

When Toriel, Asgore, and Sans all finally join you, you chance a glance at Toriel. She returns it, her expression reflecting your thoughts. 

  
  
  
  
  


“Thank you again,” Toriel says, now that you’re back at the house. She smiles and waves as the two vehicles drive off. She keeps the happy expression on her face until you’re all in the house.

Once you are, she whips her head around to look at you, the way one of her ears smacks her in the face as she does almost comical in the serious air. 

“Call everyone here,” she says. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

So you do. 

Once everyone comes, you find yourselves sitting around the kitchen table like always, your war council table. The air is still just as heavy as it was, if not more with more bodies in the room. 

Undyne is the one to break the silence with a groan and a fist slammed onto the table. 

“What the hell?” she barks. “This isn’t how questioning goes! It’s not supposed to be that easy! Or that friendly!”

“I AGREE,” Papyrus says. “INTERROGATIONS INCLUDE A GOOD COP AND A BAD COP. I SAW NO ONE ACTING AS A BAD COP.” 

“Plus they wouldn’t normally tell someone they’re the prime suspect in a murder case, even if it’s public belief,” you add. 

“So what could possibly be going on?” Toriel wonders aloud, her words lined with a sigh. “Nothing feels right here…” 

“Well, all we can do is wait,” Asgore says. “The detectives said that they would be in contact. We must wait for them to come to us.”

“Asgore, kindly shut up,” Toriel says. “All that we have been doing for  _ everything _ is sitting in wait. If there is a situation I can find any kind of information on, I would rather do it that way. It is better to be prepared.” 

“That means meddling with the human government,” Asgore tells her. “Who knows what could happen if we slip up?”

“Then we will just have to not slip up.”

He stares at his wife for a long moment before looking away in defeat. Asgore may be king, but even he can’t go against Toriel. 

“We will have to come up with a plan,” she goes on. “We will have to decide which version of the truth we are going to continue to tell. We will not lie to the authorities, but let us at least try to determine what it is that they are trying to find out.” 

"BUT?? WE AREN’T SUPPOSED TO TALK ABOUT WHAT WE WERE ASKED IN THE INTERROGATIONS??? WE SIGNED PAPERWORK????” Papyrus chimes in, worry written all over his skull. 

“don’t worry, paps. we’re doing what’s best,” Sans tells him. 

With Papyrus placated and Asgore no longer arguing, the rest of you look to Toriel for guidance. 

“So,” she says, her eyes on you. “You were interviewed first. What were you asked?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so thank you for your patience. No, I'm not abandoning. I'm too excited for the end for that. Hopefully updates can start coming out more often now that it's summer. 
> 
> I got this really cute comment this morning asking me if i was continuing this or not, and in it the person let me know that they think about this fic all the time and they just reread all of it and i just. Hnnnngh. Knowing people read it is already an honor, but my little heart is so happy knowing that theres people who are willing to reread and continue to be impacted by this monstrocity. It reminded me how much i appreciate you and love you guys. So thanks for reading, everyone. 
> 
> Also im tired and work is a lot and I'm just scooting through life with my ass on the carpet. Hope y'all are doing better than me <3


End file.
